


A Lesson Learnt Too Well

by Yidkirkin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Worst - 髙橋ヒロシ | Takahashi Hiroshi
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gangs, Gen, Independence, Logic, London, Moving On, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5294288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yidkirkin/pseuds/Yidkirkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck in Muggle London due to the Minister's good intentions and learning magic through a tutor, Harry's third year is about as different as he could have imagined after he blew up his aunt. He doesn't expect to enjoy it; but then he makes a good friend in Maekawa Muneharu when the young gang member takes more than a passing interest in his growth. Gen fic. Mostly canon compliant... to a point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Starts

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS I GUESS

Harry kept quiet as he was pulled along by the Minister, the two of them following Tom’s lantern through the dark hallways to finally arrive at a small parlour. Harry almost couldn’t see anything at all until Tom clicked his fingers nonchalantly, causing a fire to quickly spring to life in the grate and flood the room with a warm orange glow. Even with his nerves frazzled as they were, Harry relaxed against his will momentarily, only to tense back up again when the innkeeper left the room to acquire a bit of food and drink for them.

“Sit down, Harry,” Fudge said, motioning to a chair by the fire.

Numbly, Harry complied, breaking out into goose bumps the moment he did so as the Minister turned to face him. He watched with increasing trepidation as Fudge removed his pinstriped cloak and bowler hat, tossing both onto an empty chair to the side. Finally, the man adjusted his bottle-green trousers and sat down as well, keeping slightly to the right of the fire so that he could see Harry in as much light as possible. Fudge didn’t speak for a moment, almost as if he wanted to give Harry as much time as he needed to break out into a cold sweat.

“I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister for Magic.” Harry didn’t know what to say to this; he had already seen Fudge once before, while under his invisibility cloak, but it wasn’t as if he could say that. Harry also didn’t want to introduce himself, as Fudge knew who he was as well, and he didn’t want to sound stupid in front of one of the most influential men in Magical Britain.

Harry stayed awkwardly silent until Tom the innkeeper reappeared, bringing with him a tray of tea and crumpets and looking much more chipper than one ought to look at this time of night. It wasn’t until he had placed the tray on the coffee table and left the room that Fudge deemed it the right time to try speaking again, this time preceded by clearing his throat rather stiffly.

“Well, Harry,” Fudge started, pouring out tea, “You’ve had us all in a right flap, I don’t mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle’s house like that! I’d started to think... but you’re safe, and that’s what matters.” Passing Harry one of the steaming cups, Fudge then began buttering up one of the crumpets. When he saw that Harry was still holding the tea cup –he hadn’t moved at all except to take it from the older man –he gently pushed the basket of pastries towards him.

“Eat, Harry, you look dead on your feet. Now then... you will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that’s that, and no harm done.”

Fudge smiled at Harry briefly before taking a long sip of his tea in lieu of continuing his reassurances. Harry didn’t know what to think about the revelation –the entire night he had thought that an encounter like this would result in an immediately broken wand –but he was still sure that anything else Fudge had to say wouldn’t be making his situation any better. The Minister seemed to notice his inner turmoil if the sympathetic hum he let out was any indication.

“Ah, you’re worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?” he asked.“Well, I won’t deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to allow you into their home again so long as this never happens again, as it won’t, I’m sure.”

Harry unstuck his throat.

“I- but- what about my punishment?” Fudge blinked.

“Punishment?”

“I broke the law!” Harry insisted. “The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry! Last year I got an official warning just because a house elf smashed a pudding in my uncle’s house!” Harry steamrolled past whatever the Minister was about to say, his nerves on their last supports from how his night had gone so far. “The Ministry of Magic said I’d be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!”

Fudge paused then, an odd expression passing over his face before it once again smoothed into an appropriately consoling look. Unbeknownst to the Boy-Who-Lived, his own frightened outburst had given the Minister an opportunity to employ something that he had been quietly mulling over ever since the reports of Harry’s magic had reached him hours ago. Had Harry remained quiet right then, things might have gone differently for him, but now the gears in Fudge’s mind were turning at full speed and nothing short of an official Wizengamot veto would stop them.

 “Calm yourself, my dear boy; I was just about to touch on that, don’t worry.” Fudge soothed the obviously frazzled youth, mind still whirring a mile a minute. “It... is true you received that warning, and since you did the Ministry has to abide by it in some fashion or another, but we are _not_ required to expel you, nor do we send people to Azkaban just for a touch of accidental magic.”

Earlier that summer, when Sirius Black had first escaped and it was suspected that he might make an immediate attempt on Harry’s life instead of laying low as he had been doing recently, Fudge had written to Dumbledore to ask for any advice on how to handle the safety of the Boy-Who-Lived and his family. At the time, he had thought that Dumbledore would be the best to ask, as he was the headmaster of Hogwart’s and knew how to deal with children far better than Fudge himself. The old man had gently touched upon the Dursley’s house wards to assure him of their stability, but had then suggested that Harry be kept ignorant of the impending danger. The headmaster’s reasoning was that Harry having his summer break unimpeded would be better in the long run for his feeling of security at Privet Drive, and Fudge had agreed with him and that had been that.

Fudge had heard of the boy’s disappearance, and his first thought had been how he should have had the situation explained to Harry after all. Now that he had the previously missing child here in front of him, safe but obviously extremely rattled by the fear of his own _government,_ well, the Minister for Magic simply couldn’t let such a thing go unaddressed and unrepaired. So, though he was still unsure if he really should be divulging this, Fudge decided that it was better the boy was prepared for whatever could happen rather than be an open target as he had been in the hours he had been missing. The Minister could see how letting Harry have his childhood was important, but this incident was not the first dangerous thing to happen to the boy, and an informed child was always going to win out over the alternative.

“Due to certain circumstances surrounding you, which I will explain in just a moment, the Ministry has decided that while you are not to be expelled... we cannot allow you to return to Hogwarts either.” Fudge ignored Harry’s outraged squawk and motioned for him to wait. “You have likely heard of the Sirius Black incident that is occurring right now... we, the Ministry, have reason to believe that he has broken out of prison in order to get to you, seeing as you were the one to defeat his master.” Fudge’s eyes slid up to Harry’s forehead and the teenager glanced away, a feeling of dread creeping slowly up his stomach.

“Unfortunately, with all the recent activity on the continent, foreign criminals and all that, our previous plan of placing Dementors at Hogwarts as guards fell through just last week. Until Sirius Black is captured and the threat against you and by extension, anyone associated with you has been dealt with, the Ministry is going to have you study your Hogwarts curriculum using a tutoring system we have been developing for those who are unable to attend formalized magical education. Think of it as a test run... Harry, don’t look so down, I promise that the Ministry will have this madman caught sooner than you think, the longest you’ll be gone is for a year. Think of this as a convenient compromise. You don’t _want_ to be expelled do you?”

“Of course I don’t.” Harry said, feeling almost ashamed of himself, _‘The Minister’s only doing this for my benefit after all,’_ and Harry was grateful that he could still learn magic, if the other option was expulsion. He was just going to have to suck it up and learn to deal with living in Privet Drive again.

“Then how about this; if Sirius Black isn’t captured by the time your fourth year comes along, though I am positive he will have by then, then I will _guarantee_ that you can rejoin your classmates in Hogwarts. Does that make the situation a little easier to bear?” Harry nodded humbly, and so the Minister gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom’s got a room for you. I think a young wizard should be able to spend some amount of time in his own society, so why not stay here for the last two weeks of the holidays?”

Fudge strode out of the parlour and Harry stared after him, unable to consciously accept what he had just agreed to. He really couldn’t imagine what the coming year was going to be like, but then, it wasn’t as if he really had a choice in the matter if he didn’t want to be expelled. Fudge returned minutes later, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper.

“Room eleven’s free, Harry.” Fudge said. “I think you’ll be very comfortable. Just a few things before I leave you. Sometime this week I will send your tutor so you can get acquainted with them, as well, I will have the situation explained in full to your family. I don’t want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you’re to be back here before dark each night. Surely you’ll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me.”

“OK,” said Harry slowly. “but why-?”

“Don’t want to lose you again, do we?” said Fudge with a hearty laugh. “No, no... have your fun before your lessons, but we only want to be careful.” Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak. “Well, I’ll be off, plenty to do, you know. So, I’ll say goodbye.”

He held out his hand and Harry shook it, smiling awkwardly as the Minister bade him a final farewell and then departed, leaving Harry alone with a beaming Tom who motioned towards the hallway.

“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Potter,” he said. “I’ve already taken your things up...”

Harry followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for him. Inside was what Harry had expected for an inn room; a comfortable bed, wooden desk and chair, a fire burning warmly in the corner, and a tall brass owl perch- occupied by his favourite girl.

“Hedwig.” Harry breathed in relief, having been incredibly worried about the fate of his first friend. The snowy owl made a fond clicking sound before she fluttered over and landed onto Harry’s outstretched arm and shimmied up to his shoulder to preen at his hair.

“Very smart owl you’ve got there.” Tom chuckled. “Arrived about five minutes after you did. If there’s anything you need, Mr. Potter, don’t hesitate to ask.” He gave another bow and closed the door behind him, leaving Harry alone for the first time since before he had accidentally summoned the Knight Bus.

Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absent-mindedly stroking Hedwig and murmuring to her about his night. As the sky outside slowly turned from the black of night to a thin, light blue on the horizon, Harry found himself sinking into the mattress against his will, knowing full well that when he woke up he was going to have a lot more to worry about than a Hogsmeade form.


	2. Sudden Freedom

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

Harry tried not to let his sudden freedom affect him for the first few days he was holed up in Diagon Alley. He tried to tell himself that at the end of the summer, he wouldn’t be going back to Hogwarts and would instead be headed back to the Dursley’s for an entire year, so he shouldn’t get used to living in the Leaky Cauldron. But try as he did, the sensation was simply too great to ignore, and would be even harder to forget. He had never been able to go where he wanted or eat anything he fancied or not have to worry about chores or waking up on time. Really, all he had to do was not break his word to Fudge, and being that Diagon Alley stretched far beyond the fork where Gringotts was situated, it wasn’t difficult for Harry at all.

Harry spent a leisurely hour each morning eating breakfast in the Leaky Cauldron, people watching and occasionally talking with Tom in the rare periods where business was slow. All kinds of people passed through the doors of the pub, which was both a drawback and a source of entertainment. After the first morning, where Harry had been accosted by a fair amount of patrons for being who he was, he tended to eat breakfast behind a privacy ward cast by Tom, rather than have to stop eating every five minutes to deal with an eager passerby.

After he ate, Harry normally went out into Diagon Alley for the rest of the day, taking his time exploring all the previously unknown shops and occasionally eating at whatever little cafe he saw once it got to later in the day. He especially frequented Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour, not only because it was an ideal place to finish whatever homework he had, but also because the owner was quite knowledgeable in a number of areas and was more than happy to lend a hand if he needed it. Mr. Fortescue had tried to offer Harry free sundaes, but after his luck with the whole Ministry-not-expelling-him debacle, Harry didn’t want to push it and only accepted the first one with no charge.

When he wasn’t picking away at his homework at a table at the Ice-Cream Parlour, Harry would just walk around the Alley and look at whatever caught his eye. He learned about the newest broomstick, The Firebolt, and allowed himself a bit of time thinking about what it might be like to fly it. He ogled at the cage full of the Monster Book of Monster books, bought Hedwig her favourite owl treats and kept well away from Knockturn Alley. Generally, the days slipped by easily and without fuss, and Harry couldn’t have been more content.

There was the issue of whether or not he was to buy his normal school supplies, but as the end of the first week drew nearer, Harry received a letter which contained a time and a place for him to meet his Ministry-assigned tutor, which also told him that the tutor would be the one to assign his books to him. As the morning of the seventh day he had been in the Leaky Cauldron went on, Harry dressed, tried to comb his hair to little avail, and headed out into the alley after his breakfast to do a bit of walking before he was to meet this tutor for lunch. When the time came, Harry made his way to The Whistling Portrait, a family run restaurant a few shops past Gringotts on the left street; upon entering he was immediately led to the table by the kindly older waitress.

“Mr. Potter. Thank you for arriving on time.” Harry shook the older man’s hand and sat down opposite him, feeling slightly out of place in the bustling restaurant. The tutor didn’t speak again as he dug into his briefcase, leaving the younger wizard a bit of time to examine him.

 _‘He looks almost as if he could be a muggle...’_ The man was probably in his sixties, had skin far darker than any Harry had seen before, with a silver beard and hair that formed tight curls close to his scalp. He wore a pair of rectangular glasses and a grey and purple muggle suit, and when he finally emerged from his briefcase with a few papers in his hands, Harry could see that his eyes were a similar green to his own.

“Sorry about that, here, take these.” The tutor handed Harry the papers and closed the briefcase with a resounding snap, placing it near his feet. The pair paused to give the waitress their orders and then the older man smiled lightly.

“My name is Walter Kopinak, you can call me Mr. Kopinak for now. Those papers I gave you contain our schedule for the first month, your supply list as well as a waver the Ministry needs you to sign.” Harry nodded and folded the papers carefully, placing them in his side bag between the pages of his Transfiguration textbook from last year. “Now, do you have any questions about how this is going to work out?”

“One or two... uh- what am I going to do for my electives? I chose Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, but do those work with a tutor?”

“...No, they don’t really. This system is just in it’s testing stages, but it’s original intentions were for muggleborn students who wanted to keep up with their non-magical studies. I suppose if you were open to it, we could use those slots for muggle subjects?” Mr. Kopinak took a long sip of his tea, made a face, and then reached for the sugar. Harry furrowed his brow; he hadn’t really given much thought to keeping up with his muggle education, magic had sort of swept all of that under the rug from the very moment he had been introduced to it.

“But... aren’t you a wizard? Muggle teachers need to go to school for all that...” Mr. Kopinak chuckled deeply, his shaking hands almost spilling his tea even after his laughter ceased.

“I’m a muggleborn wizard actually, and I moved here from Canada, which has a slightly different schooling system than the United Kingdom. Don’t worry, I have the credentials.” Mr. Kopinak’s smile widened when Harry nodded contemplatively.

“Sure, why not. I’m guessing you’re going to send me a list of other books to get?”

“I keep them here with me, actually. Just cross out the books you won’t need on your first list.” Mr. Kopinak trailed into silence as he rummaged through the papers in his briefcase again, and as the food came and the talk dragged on, Harry thought that maybe he wouldn’t mind having a tutor so much if it was going to be as easy to get along with him as this. By the time they parted ways, Harry had warmed up to the man considerably, and resolved to owl him before their first lesson just in case the Dursley’s might pose a problem to it. He deserved at least a warning, after all.

When Harry’s second week in Diagon Alley began, he finally started to come across his classmates on his daily wanderings of the wizarding borough. He met Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan in Quality Quidditch Supplies, and stopped briefly to say hello to Neville Longbottom outside of Flourish and Blotts. All three were rather surprised that he wasn’t going to be returning to Hogwarts, with Neville even promising to write to him since ‘that’s what friends do’. It made Harry regret not getting to know the other Gryffindor very well these past two years, and he readily agreed to the exchange of letters before Neville’s grandmother insisted they move on.

The absence of Ron and Hermione in the Alley was a near constant itch in the back of Harry’s mind, and even as he settled into a comfortable routine he found himself keeping an ear and an eye out for his friends everywhere he went. He hoped they hadn’t chosen to buy their school supplies early in the summer; Harry did want to see them at least once before their communication was restricted to letters. So when the final day of the holidays appeared quite suddenly, Harry had resigned himself to explaining his absence from Hogwarts in a letter, and he made it all the way to lunch stuck in a depressed mood. Not even the prospect of eating at Fortescue’s one last time could cheer him up, until, that is, he entered the patio and found himself very nearly bowled over by a figure with a head full of bushy, flyaway hair.

“Harry!”

Both Ron and Hermione were suddenly there, the redhead still sitting at the corner patio table and Hermione inspecting him closely with a worried expression on her face, presumably trying to ascertain his well being. Once he got a closer look at them, he noticed that both of his friends were slightly darker in skin and lighter in hair, with Ron’s freckles standing out starkly on his cheeks; Harry assumed it was due to their summers spent in foreign countries. Harry smiled widely at the two of them, and relished in Ron’s good natured pat on the shoulder as he pulled a chair up to the table in order to sit in between them.

“We’ve been looking all over for you, Harry! We went to Madam Malkin’s and the Leaky Cauldron and even Flourish and Blotts but there weren’t no sign of you at all!” Ron said all this very fast, almost reminding Harry of Hermione when they had first met her.

“I got all my school stuff just a few days ago.” Harry explained. “How did you know I was at the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Dad.” Ron answered simply, and Harry let out a noise of comprehension... and embarrassment. Mr. Weasley worked at the Ministry, and would have heard _all_ about what Harry had done to his Aunt Marge.

“Please tell me you didn’t _really_ blow up your aunt, Harry.” Hermione pleaded, partly serious but with a look on her face that Harry couldn’t quite place. Ron snickered and Hermione shot him a deadly glare. “It’s not funny, Harry could’ve been expelled, and even as it is-“ Hermione sniffed miserably and Ron sobered quickly.

“I’m just glad I _wasn’t_ expelled. What I got was lucky, really.” Harry said, trying to make the situation seem a bit easier. “Don’t worry, Hermione, Ron. My tutor’s a nice guy, and we can still send letters to each other during the year. Fudge even promised that I could go back next year even if they didn’t catch Sirius Black.”

“...What does Black have to do with _you_?” Ron asked lowly.

“Fudge said he was a big supporter of Voldemort- c’mon Ron, it’s only a name- and that he broke out to get revenge on me. They were originally going to put guards at Hogwarts, but apparently the Dementors couldn’t be spared or something.” Harry paused as Ron went white as a sheet. “What’s wrong?”

“Dementors, are they _barking_? Dad told me they suck out souls and drain out a person’s happiness.” The muggle-raised pair gaped and Ron shuddered. “If that’s the alternative then I’m glad you aren’t coming back... wait, that came out wrong.”

“Ron...” Hermione sighed, but Harry only laughed.

“Oh right, Harry, we’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! Hermione’s there as well. Maybe you can at least come to King’s Cross with us tomorrow?” Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“I’ll see what Mr. Weasley has to say, he _is_ the only one around that I know works at the Ministry. Have you got all your books and things already?”

“Yeah, look here!” Ron said excitedly, pulling out a thin box from the inside pocket of his robes and revealing a thin, spindly looking wand inside. “Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. We’ve got all our books- take a look at Hermione’s bags.”

Harry glanced down at Hermione’s feet for the first time and only then did he notice not one, but three neatly stacked bags sitting under the table.

“I’m taking a few more courses than normal this year. Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies...”

“What are you doing Muggle Studies for?” Ron asked incredulously. “You don’t need to study them, you already know all about them!”

“It’ll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view.” Hermione said determinedly. Harry was about to ask if she was planning on sleeping anytime this year, but was cut off by the arrival of a very small, graceful looking owl that landed on his shoulder quite suddenly. Harry took the offered scroll and then rummaged in his pocket, soon revealing an owl treat that the bird gobbled down in earnest. Ron and Hermione stayed silent as Harry read through the missive, and then turned curious eyes up from the parchment as he gave a sigh.

“I’ve got to go talk to a Ministry person at the Leaky Cauldron about my going back to the Dursley’s tomorrow. Do you guys have anything left to do?”

“I want to get Scabbers looked over. Egypt didn’t agree with him very well.” Ron replied, holding up his pet rat to emphasize his worry. Scabbers did look thinner than when Harry had last seen him, and he certainly wasn’t as lively as he remembered.

“I’ve got a few extra galleons, so I wanted to buy an owl.” Hermione said. “They’re so useful, and I’ve always liked Hedwig anyways.”

Harry stood, shouldering his backpack and stretching, causing the little owl on his shoulder to fly off without so much as a hoot. “Then how about you meet me in my room later? It’s number eleven, just knock and I’ll be there.”

After a minute of helping Hermione balance her bags, the three split off, Ron and Hermione to the Magical Menagerie and Harry back to the Leaky Cauldron. It took him a while to get through the last minute crowds of school shopping families, but thankfully the pub was fairly quiet when he entered. He walked over to the wall by the bar and glanced around for whoever he was supposed to meet, but it wasn’t until his eyes passed a table in the far corner that he caught sight of Mr. Weasley waving earnestly at him. A tad unsure, Harry walked over.

“Harry.” Mr. Weasley started, smiling as he looked up at Harry from his seat. “How are you?”

“Been better.” Harry admitted with a tired sort of smile. “Are you the ‘Ministry Official’ I’m supposed to meet about going back to the Dursley’s?”

“Indeed I am. Why don’t you sit down, we’ll be here a while in any case.” Harry did as Mr. Weasley suggested, dropping his backpack onto the empty chair beside him and becoming inexplicably embarrassed as Ron’s father waved Tom over to their table so Harry could order something to eat. It was only after Tom had strolled away with a request for tea that Mr. Weasley set his newspaper down and smiled kindly at Harry; the green eyed boy only now noticed that the man looked far more tired than he had ever previously seen him.

“So, I was thinking that tomorrow you could come and see Ron and Hermione off from King’s Cross, and from there I’d bring you back to your home. I was the one sent to tell your aunt and uncle about everything that’s been going on, and they told me that later in the morning would be ideal over any other time. But I can bring you back beforehand, if you’d like that instead.” Harry stared at Mr. Weasley in shock at the offer before breaking out into an ecstatic grin.

“I’d love to go to King’s Cross Mr. Weasley, thank you.” Tom wandered back over and deposited Harry’s tea on the table without a word. “To be honest I’d rather put off going back to the Dursley’s as long as I can.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure you’ll be back at Hogwarts before you know it. Why not go up and check you’ve got everything packed so you don’t have to rush around in the morning? I’ll send Ron and Hermione up when they get in.” Harry nodded and stood, cradling his tea cup in his hands very carefully after shouldering his bag once more.

Ron and Hermione knocked on the door to room eleven not a half hour later, and in that time Harry had managed to pack all of his smaller things back into his trunk and finish his tea as well. The trio spent a few hours in the confines of the hotel room, helping Harry pack up, speculating about the new DADA teacher and talking about the courses Harry was going to be taking through his tutor. Ron had been a tad shocked that Harry was going to be taking what he equated to be Muggle Studies, just like Hermione was- and no amount of explaining could convince him they were any different. But despite that, and the unrelated rant about Hermione’s new cat, Crookshanks, from Ron, all three were in an incredibly good mood when Mr. Weasley came up to fetch them for dinner.

After dinner, during which Harry had been fussed over by Mrs. Weasley, teased by the twins, avoided by Ginny and had a civil conversation with Percy, Harry spent another few hours in the company of his two best friends up in his rented room. Hermione spent much of that time going over his tutor’s booklist in interest, trying to distract herself from the ever present fact that tomorrow she wouldn’t see one of her friends for who knew how long. Ron, similarly, also tried to keep himself distracted of this, but did so by roping Harry into an in depth discussion about Quidditch teams. Harry appreciated their efforts and told them so; making both of them flush red at the blatant praise and semi-jokingly increasing their efforts until Harry was reduced to a sort of tearful-laughing fit.

When he finally fell asleep late that night, Harry found that he couldn’t remember much in the way of specifics as far as his day had been concerned, but rather held a cozy feeling deep inside his chest. His stint of independence had put a few things in perspective for him, and most importantly of those was that he now realized it didn’t matter if there were mass-murderers after him, or if he wasn’t going back to Hogwarts, or if he had to put up with the Dursley’s for another year. None of those things mattered because as long as he could even have one day like the one he had just had, then he would gladly go a year or more to try and experience that feeling again. In the end, it was his friends that meant the most to him, and if he had to choose, then not even his magic would be given a second thought.


	3. Saying Goodbye

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

Saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione was harder than anything Harry had done in a long time. A sinking sensation had been festering in his stomach the entire ride to King’s Cross, making him unresponsive even to Mrs. Weasley’s sincere attempts at conversation. He had felt awful all through the walk to the barrier to Platform 9 3/4, been quiet as Mrs. Weasley hugged and kissed her children and Hermione goodbye, and had nearly faded completely into the background by the time that his two friends returned from putting their luggage into an empty compartment. It was only when the trio had sequestered themselves in one of station’s alcoves a dozen feet from the Weasley’s and Hermione had enveloped him in a hug that Harry accepted that what he was feeling was sorrow.

“I-I’m going to miss you guys.” Harry mumbled into Hermione’s shoulder, his brow scrunched into a frown against his will.

“You had _better_ owl us.” Ron said, moving forward to hug Harry once Hermione had backed away, trying to sound as if he were being insistent but coming off as hesitant, like he was having trouble deciding if that was the right thing to say. “Maybe you can come and stay at the Burrow during Christmas? I’ll talk to Dad about it.”

“Yeah, I’ll write, don’t worry. I’d love to come for Christmas if I’m allowed, too. Who knows, maybe they’ll have caught Black by then?” Harry attempted a smile that neither of his two friends returned.

“Just be careful, Harry.” Hermione asked as the train’s warning whistle started. “If I hear you’ve got into any trouble I’ll learn how to make Howlers on top of my classes, so be _careful_!” Harry nodded and walked with them back into the main platform, and stood in between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in order to wave goodbye to the fast departing train. A few minutes later, after the last of the smoke had dissipated and most of the magical families had apparated away, Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry and pulled him into a tight hug. Harry blushed bright red when she kissed his cheek but liked the warm feeling in his chest that accompanied it.

“Do take care, won’t you, Harry?” She asked with a worried smile. “I don’t want to be hearing anymore tales from Arthur about inflated family members, do you understand young man?”

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley.” Ron’s mother smiled and patted his upper arm kindly, before turning to Mr. Weasley and tilting her head towards the station exit.

“Best get on, the both of you. Arthur, I’ll just apparate back, I’ll see you later tonight.” Mr. Weasley nodded and gave his wife a quick kiss before turning to his charge and motioning towards the exit back into the muggle portion of King’s Cross.

“Come on, one of the Ministry cars is going to drive us over to your aunt and uncle’s.” Suddenly feeling a lot worse about the whole affair once again, Harry only nodded despondently and followed Mr. Weasley back out through the crowds and to the old fashioned dark green vehicle parked on the street.

The drive to Little Whinging, in Harry’s mind, went by far too quickly, as he was actually having a rather nice time discussing the finer points of muggle life with Mr. Weasley, even if he fell short on a few of the more obscure topics. By the time that they pulled up in front of number four’s pristine lawn, Harry had almost forgotten where they had been headed to, but remembered all too clearly when he caught sight of Aunt Petunia’s frowning face peering out of the living room window. Mr. Weasley offered him a sympathetic smile as they climbed out of the car, and Harry was only mildly surprised when the older man dismissed the car and proceeded to follow him up the walkway.

Harry was immensely glad that Mr. Weasley had chosen to dress in a passing muggle fashion today, as it meant only mild disapproval from his aunt instead of outright hostility. Mr. Weasley quickly greeted the housewife before inquiring after the location of Harry’s bedroom so that he could unshrink the teen’s luggage, and as soon as he had disappeared up the stairs Aunt Petunia turned her disapproving stare onto her nephew.

“As soon as that man has left, you are to go straight to your room and not come out until I call for you. Vernon and I are going to be... explaining a few things.” Harry quietly agreed and soon enough was shaking Mr. Wealsey’s hand, wincing slightly at the loud crack that sounded as he apparated away and thankful that the man was allowed to use magic in his house. He didn’t particularly like the idea of another Ministry letter so soon after his meeting with the Minister.

Vvv

In the few hours it took for Uncle Vernon to return home, Harry had let Hedwig back into his room and had fed her the last few of the special owl treats she liked, but otherwise hadn’t gotten much accomplished. He _had_ come to the conclusion that his uncle was probably coming back from dropping Dudley off at Stonewall, since his cousin’s bedroom had looked suspiciously bare when he had glanced into it in passing. He was just starting to doze off, thinking on whether he should send his summer work to Hogwarts with Hedwig or ask his tutor about it, when his aunt’s high pitched voice called up the stairs for him to get to the living room that instant.

Harry jolted awake, a feeling of dread immediately fixing itself in the forefront of his mind. He had speculated a little on what his aunt and uncle might want to explain to him –and none of his ideas had been exactly uplifting. He had narrowed it down to either ‘you’re being sent to St. Brutus’s tomorrow’ or ‘have fun living in the cupboard again’.

So although he didn’t sprint, Harry did make his way down swiftly, well aware that he was probably toeing a line with his aunt and uncle because of the incident with Aunt Marge. When he rounded the corner into the living room, Harry found his uncle sitting stiffly in his usual armchair, while his aunt was perched on the edge of her own usual seat. Harry felt incredibly uncomfortable as he lowered himself onto the couch opposite, a feeling which doubled when Uncle Vernon turned to regard him with an expression that was part carefully restrained anger, part resignation, and part smug satisfaction.

“Let’s get this over with, boy. I can’t do much about your presence in the summer, but make no mistake, if it weren’t for your aunt you wouldn’t have been in this house longer than a week when you first came along. I will tell you now not to get too comfortable, because you will not be staying in my house during the school year so long as I have anything to say about it.” Harry didn’t make a sound, not only because his uncle didn’t like to be interrupted when he ranted, but also because he had no idea where the man was taking this. “So, after a bit of discussion between your aunt and I, we have decided to put you up in a room in London, so you can be closer to... _your_ _people..._ and so you can stay out of our hair.”

“...whuh?” Harry asked smartly. _‘They can’t mean...’_ His aunt rolled her eyes and glared at him fiercely.

“We do not want you staying in this house! Especially not when a crazed lunatic can easily find you here!” Harry sputtered at the reminder, and then fell quiet, wondering why he hadn’t been prepared for his aunt and uncle to react badly to that bit of information. After all, it wasn’t as if the Ministry could force the Dursleys into letting him stay, even when, legally, they were his guardians.

“We’re not having any of your people coming in here anymore either, we were told about your so-called tutor, and there will be _none_ of that nonsense in this household.” Uncle Vernon said as well, before Aunt Petunia steamrolled on.

“We are putting you up in London, we will pay for your board, electric and give you a food allowance, and that is final!” Aunt Petunia practically yelled this, the expression on her face clearly indicating that she was beyond irritated by what she was doing for her nephew. “Vernon and I have lives as well, you know, when you and Dudley are away at school, so do not unpack, do not get comfortable, and stay out of sight until the day after tomorrow!”

At his aunt’s final shriek, Harry nodded furiously and practically shot out of his seat, darting towards the staircase very quickly so he didn’t get anything thrown at him by the irate woman. “And you are not to tell _any_ of your- _people_ at all! Do you hear me boy?!” He could still hear Aunt Petunia’s furious voice all the way up to his room, only escaping it when he finally closed the door behind him and flopped down onto his bed once again. He sighed and tilted his head to look up at Hedwig- sitting on her perch and eyeing him curiously- and found himself smiling against his will.

“I can barely tell what’s going on anymore, girl.” Harry muttered, smile growing when she gave him a tired hoot in reply. “These past few weeks have been so crazy, and now we’re moving to London... I hope they didn’t rent me a place that’s too terrible, though if I know Uncle Vernon he’d buy based on price over anything else.” Harry rolled his body into an awkward position, straining until he had managed to pull the covers over his feet and up to his shoulders. When he had settled down, Harry closed his eyes and sighed again. “I miss Ron and Hermione...”

Harry drifted off to sleep restlessly, dreaming of big black dogs in shadowy streets and the Minister apologizing to him, saying he couldn’t go back for his fourth year either as Sirius Black was still at large. He woke up several times in a cold sweat, nightmares of letters sent, informing him of his friend’s untimely deaths or horrible injuries. It _could_ _happen_ at Hogwarts after all, if the last two years were any indication. The fifth time he awoke, Harry didn’t go back to sleep, and instead spent a while composing a letter to Mr. Kopinak telling him of his imminent change of residence (though being careful to not mention the fact that he was going alone), and that he would send the location to him when he knew it.

The rest of the night passed by slowly, but Harry couldn’t have felt any less tired. He wondered what was going to happen to him this coming year; what sort of things he would learn, how he would make out in this new place he was moving to, whether or not Sirius Black would be caught before the end of the year. As long as he kept to himself, maybe he wouldn’t have as bad a reputation in this new neighbourhood as he did here in Privet Drive. Harry snorted at the idea of Uncle Vernon staying long enough to give the ridiculous St. Brutus’s excuse to any of the people around where he would be living.

No, if he just... kept under the radar, didn’t cause any trouble and did alright with his school work, he would be fine. No one would know him in London except for any wizards that managed to see his scar, and even then Harry’s fringe was long enough to cover it if he was careful. As long as he did all that, he might for once have a normal year.

Oh, how wrong he was.


	4. Dropped Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ginuliad (guh-nuu-lee-add) from the Welsh word ‘cynulliad’ meaning ‘assembly’. It is a completely fictional district that I made up for the express purpose of the setting of this fic. I know next to nothing about London beyond that it has food trucks(?).

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

Harry, when he got his first impression of it from the back seat of his Uncle’s car, wasn’t too sure about what he saw of the district he would now be living in for the rest of the school year. Ginuliad* was a small and densely populated district that sat in London’s borough of Barking and Dagenham (bordered on one side by the adjacent borough of Havering) and was the last true industrial area in all of London. Most of the apartments either used to be or still were housing complexes for factory workers –so Harry had a good idea why his uncle had chosen this place –and driving was made difficult due to the low hanging smoke that spewed forth from the abundant smoke stacks at random intervals. Uncle Vernon drove slowly and carefully through the narrow streets, muttering under his breath whenever pedestrians or bicycles got too close to the car, and Harry used the opportunity to gaze around and try to get a better grasp of the place.

...Ginuliad had a _lot_ of people living here, Harry thought to himself with a bit of awe; Little Whinging was an upper-middle class neighbourhood with the houses spaced comfortably apart, and Hogwarts was a castle in the highlands, far away from cityscapes and the like. Neither had prepared him for this level of density; kids were running to and fro on every street corner, past old, old churches and mosques and synagogues, through the parked cars that lined the streets with no extra space beyond what the law mandated. Most of the housing (three stories tall on either side of the streets and flush up to the sidewalk) had thin, tiny balconies, nearly half of them holding middle aged married couples or smoking teenagers or lounging seniors or mothers cradling their babies. When Harry glanced into a few of the alleyways, barely wide enough to warrant the label, all he could see were bicycles and motorbikes and people milling around in leather jackets and wife beaters, with clouds of smoke wafting above their heads from the factories and their cigarettes.

“Get out of the bloody road!” His uncle barked harshly at a very young couple pushing a stroller, shooting the car forward once the parents had lifted the contraption up and onto the sidewalk. Harry sunk back into his seat at the glare the father shot at them, the scar bisecting his right eye making the previously smiling man look unnecessarily intimidating. Harry looked back to try and see if he was still glaring –but instead the man had turned away to embrace an older woman standing next to one of the spindly Ginkgo trees lining the streets. Harry turned back to the front as Vernon started cursing under his breath again, hoping his neighbours wouldn’t be that scary.

                It took Harry and his uncle another five minutes to reach the side street that would lead them to their destination, by which point the only thing holding Vernon back from a complete breakdown was the parking spot they had managed to find amidst the bustle. Harry got out of the car first, shouldering his patchwork backpack and carefully picking up Hedwig’s cage with his one hand, glad that he had thought to cover it with a blanket since he knew she didn’t like being out in bright sunlight. While Vernon slammed the driver’s side door and stomped around to the back of the car to retrieve Harry’s trunk, the young wizard looked around, noticing curious stares coming from a few of the balconies but not much interest beyond that.

“Bo- ...Harry.” His uncle grit out, huffing as he pulled the heavy trunk along behind him, his face turning an odd shade of purple in the sweltering heat and his hair starting to turn to disarray. “Take the bloody thing. Here.” Harry hurried to take the handle of his trunk with his free hand, but had to balance it against his hip as Vernon thrust an envelope out to him scant seconds later. “Your key is inside, along with your food allowance for this month. We will mail next month’s to you on the first. Your aunt and I will take care of the rest, so stay here,stay outof trouble and _don’t let us hear of or from any of **your people.**_ Am I clear, boy?”

“Yes, Uncle Vernon. I’ll try... if anyone bothers you just let me know and I’ll tell them to stop. Thank you.” The man snorted rather unkindly but seemed to accept the compromise before he turned back around and got into the car without a second glance. He was gone a minute later, leaving his nephew alone on the London sidewalk, laden with all his worldly possessions and feeling very, very lost.

Harry looked down at the envelope Vernon had given him, flipping it over so he could read the neat scrawl on the front. _‘Room number 13, west wing, Auttenberg building. Edenton Court, Ginuliad, Barking and Dagenham. ’_

“ _That_ helps.” Harry mumbled; the only response he got for his trouble was a tired chirping noise from Hedwig. Harry shoved the envelope into the pocket of his hoodie so he had his hand free, and then proceeded to grab his trunk and start hauling it down the side street in front of him; ‘Edenton Court’ displayed quaintly on a sign hanging from the nearest lamppost.

Harry walked down the path slowly, partly so that he didn’t exhaust himself on the uneven cobblestones but also so that he had the chance to fully inspect the narrow street. The actual pathway was paved with grey, square bricks and was less than twenty feet across at any point, so that there weren’t any cars parked along it but instead nearly a hundred bicycles and motorbikes of all kinds. The housing towered three stories on either side of the path, with clothes lines strung between the balconies and lights and British flags hanging from each one. A little further in, the walkway widened up into a small, square courtyard with three picnic tables in the middle of it and a couple Ginkgo trees planted around; each tree was in front of a different building entrance and had the building name hanging from it on a small sign.

Harry was about to turn to the nearest tree to check which building it was –Auttenberg was a rather distinctive name –when he felt a tap on his shoulder, making him jump and drop his trunk on his foot. Hissing vehemently but keeping composed enough to set Hedwig down on the ground gently, Harry tugged his smarting foot out from beneath the trunk quickly, in the process knocking the envelope out of his pocket. The wizard was about to whirl around to see who had startled him when a man slid into his field of vision, smiling apologetically and holding out his envelope for him to take.

“Sorry about that, kid. I’ve been told I’m too quiet when approaching people.” The man laughed a bit, and Harry shoved the stinging in his foot aside to take the paper back. The man was about two heads taller than he was, with dark hair done in a crew cut and a closely maintained beard half turned to grey. He was wearing a pair of reading glasses, a white dress shirt, and an apron over a pair of black slacks. When Harry failed to respond for a full minute, his smile gained an amused edge to it and he knelt down to grasp the handle of the trunk, lifting it up to lean at his side and raising an expectant eyebrow at the thirteen year old.

Harry felt his face tinge pink.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up. It’s fine –my foot doesn’t even hurt now.” The man nodded once.

“Good. I’m Ken Kuniyoshi, I own Castella’s Diner on West 5th. Are you new around here?”

“Yeah... uh, I’m moving in today. I’m Harry –Potter.” The young wizard stuck his hand out rather awkwardly to the man, thinking about making a good impression if he still had the chance. “Uhm –do you know where the Auttenberg building is?”

“Right in the middle there.” Kuniyoshi said, shaking Harry’s hand while pointing to the correct building with his free hand. “You should meet my son sometime; he’s around your age. Do you need help getting your trunk up the stairs?” Harry shook his head.

“No, I should be able to get it. Thank you.” The man, Kuniyoshi, nodded again and then walked past, over to the entrance of the housing to the right of the Auttenberg building. Harry stared after him a moment before continuing on his own, envelope back in his pocket and pulling his trunk along behind him. Truth be told, a bit of help wouldn’t have gone unappreciated, but right now Harry really just wanted to get up into the room and be done with everything for a little while. There was only so much that Harry could take in one afternoon –moving to an entirely new place in the span of a single hour was pushing the limit.

It took him a good ten minutes, but Harry finally managed to haul his luggage up the two flights of stairs and down the narrow, brightly lit hallway. His new home was at the very end, an army green door with a brass mail slot and the number thirteen embossed on it, and Harry carefully leaned his trunk against the adjacent wall so he could open the envelope and dig out the brass key within. He studiously resolved to wait to count his food allowance until he was safely inside.

The door swung open after a minute of pushing, creaking long and loud, betraying its age. Harry let the door hit the wall before moving inside, dragging his luggage along with him and not stopping until the door closed and he was fumbling along the wall looking for the light switch.

It was... small, was Harry’s first impression of the place. Behind him lay the short hallway to the door, but in front of him was what appeared to be the biggest room. It had a desk in the corner, a low table in the middle of the floor, two bookcases on the farthest wall and a door leading to a tiny balcony directly opposite where he was standing. The hardwood floor was covered by a single, enormous brown rug that matched the long drapes half blocking the balcony door, and there were a few books still lying on the otherwise bare bookshelves. Harry set Hedwig’s cage down on the empty desk and glanced out of the glass door –he was directly above the little courtyard. Turning back around, Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn to the three closet doors he hadn’t noticed when he had come in.

Two opened up to reveal a sort of closet-pantry hybrid that had what looked to be half a set of fine china and two thick blankets as the only occupants. The other contained a washer and dryer; of the extremely simple variety that Aunt Petunia had bought back when they were first released, touted as being the pinnacle of ease for the modern housewife. Disregarding that for the moment, Harry padded back over to the hallway and quickly found another light switch not far from the one he had first used.

The hallway, in full light, was narrow and bare except for a shoe rack halfway down and a small basket nailed to the wall between the door to the hallway and the open entrance into the rest of the apartment, which Harry could guess had been used for keys. Another light switch just inside the next room showed that it was a kitchen, smaller than even Hagrid’s but with all of the muggle amenities he had expected to find. A narrow fridge, an electric-coil stove, a bit of countertop with an in-built sink and a cupboard from floor to ceiling finishing the room off. There was one more door to go through, a sliding one on the other side of the kitchen, and opening it gave Harry the final room in the entire apartment –the loo.

“...where am I supposed to sleep?” Harry mumbled, closing the bathroom door again and walking back to the main room. He pushed his trunk underneath the desk for the time being and uncovered Hedwig’s cage, opening the door so she could hop out and inspect their new residence.

“What do you think, girl?” Harry asked, smiling fondly as she went about turning her head this way and that to get a good look at everything. “I could put your cage up on that book shelf over there –keep the window next to it open while it’s still warm out. Hm?”

One chirrup from her was all he got before she ruffled her feathers and retreated back into her cage, folding her wings up so she could get some sleep. Harry left her on the desk and once more surveyed the room himself, trying to find a solution to the sudden problem of sleeping space.

“I guess I could just... move the table for night time.” He muttered to himself, trying it out by picking the furniture up and leaning it against the wall beside the balcony door. “Then I could use one of those blankets as a mattress.”

Just to make sure, Harry went over to the closet and tried to pull the blankets off of the top shelf –he ended up falling over when they were heavier than he had expected. Huffing, Harry moved the top comforter away from the thicker one underneath it, and was surprised to find not a blanket as he had assumed, but a bed roll not unlike the one he had used to sleep on in his cupboard. It even had a slightly raised portion to mimic a pillow, and fit very well in the space the table had previously occupied.

“I’ll just put it away during the day.” Harry concluded, easily picking the actual blanket up and folding it over the bed roll to see how it looked. With the dim lighting of the room and the warmth of the summer creeping in through the old walls, Harry found himself growing increasingly drowsy as he stared at the makeshift bed. _Surely a bit of a lie-down wouldn’t hurt..._

Harry was out like a light the moment he pulled the blanket over his shoulders.


	5. Working It All Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I’m bullshitting my way through London geography, so just go with it.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

Harry awoke early the next morning to the sensation of Hedwig preening his hair and a distinct feeling of having missed something important. It took him several minutes of contentedly letting his owl do as she pleased for him to remember where he was –and why he was lying on the floor –but once he did the reason for his waking quickly became apparent. Sitting up and shrugging off his tiredness as best he could, Harry stumbled to his feet and over to the window, simultaneously letting Hedwig outside and an unfamiliar owl in.

The newcomer, a well cared for barn owl only a little smaller than Hedwig, held out it’s leg and stood very still while Harry untied the scroll; once he was done he showed it over to Hedwig’s water dish so it could take a bit of a rest. Moving the cage slightly so he could actually use the desk, Harry unfurled the scroll and smoothed it out carefully before he read it.

 _Mr. Potter,_ it began in purple ink, printing rather than the cursive everyone in the wizarding world was so fond of. _I have received notice of your change of residence, and have changed the date of our first class to better accommodate this. I will be there at noon on September 6 th, and will bring with me any required forms and supplies I did not get to discuss during our first meeting. I have already filed the correct forms concerning my and your practicing of magic in your new abode come Sept. 6th, as well as gained permission to apply anti-muggle illusory spells should you have need of it. I look forward to seeing you in a few days time. –W. Kopinak._

Harry reread the letter a few times to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, but it seemed as though his tutor really was that straightforward a person. Harry was used to long rambling letters full of bits and pieces of information or stories from Ron and Hermione, so a short, to-the-point correspondence like this was fairly refreshing. He spent a few minutes stroking the unnamed barn owl before deciding not to respond to the letter, instead hoping to make use of the early hour and get his unpacking done all at once.

Harry went about it with a swiftness honed from years of helping his aunt with chores around the house. Firstly, he switched all of the lights in the apartment on and moved Hedwig’s cage –with the barn owl still inside –over to the bookcase he had thought of using yesterday, which was deep enough that the cage fit on top easily. Then he folded up the bed roll and blanket and placed them back onto the top shelf of the closet for later use, resolving to soon acquire some sort of small step ladder so he wouldn’t fall over every time he retrieved it.

Next, Harry moved the china into the kitchen and placed it in the nearly empty cupboard, moving the oddly shaped cookie jar that had been inside onto the counter next to the sink. Further inspection showed that there was actually a large stopper on the bottom of the jar, and when Harry found a five-pound note inside of it he remembered that he had a month’s food allowance to count and budget out (something he was vaguely familiar with from watching Aunt Petunia do the same). For the time being he simply folded the envelope and hid it in the jar, putting his keys in the little basket in the hallway while he thought of it, and then he moved back into the main room and towards the closet.

By now there was a thin sliver of light shining in through the window, and the barn owl had left at some point without Harry having noticed. He went over the washer and dryer with an inexperienced eye but could see no obvious flaws in them, similarly with the structure of the other furniture in the room (though the desk did have several cobwebs underneath). He stacked the books that had been left on the shelf back up, looking over each one as he did; motorbike mechanics, cooking for the convalescent, how to mend clothing, several math and science books, and one about the birds of northern Australia. Then Harry turned to his trunk and began the arduous task of relocating all of his things into their new places.

All of his potions supplies he put in the kitchen cupboard drawer closest to the floor, making sure nothing would fall over before he moved on. He filled the shelves with his school books, scrolls and his photo album, not caring for the order so much as whether they would all fit or not. He folded his robes and tucked them onto the highest shelves in the closet, and he put his muggle clothes on the lower ones. The alarm clock he placed on top of the desk, along with his writing supplies and spare sheaves of paper, and his Nimbus 2000 was tucked out of the way behind the washer and dryer. Any other odds and ends he had were either moved or left in the trunk, like his invisibility cloak, and it was around ten o’clock that he was finally finished, a little over three hours since he had woken up.

Now all he had to do was count and budget his food allowance. He did this at the desk so he could write down his estimations, but it quickly became clear that Uncle Vernon either hadn’t looked when packing the money or he thought that Harry ate a lot less than he actually did. He had given him 300 pounds*, and while that was more money than he had _ever_ gotten from the man it certainly wasn’t enough for both amenities and a full month of food –starting out with bare cupboards no less. Working it out meant that he would have to stay under 10 pounds* a day, and even a rudimentary knowledge of his appetite at Hogwart’s was enough to inform him that it wasn’t going to be sufficient –let alone that it would have to include things like toilet paper, detergent, transportation and repairs.

Harry glanced at the alarm clock and weighed his options in his head. On the one hand, he could try and stay within the amount Uncle Vernon had allotted him –which would mean using it for things other than food and getting used to going without some days. This would be the least comfortable, but would also keep him out of any trouble he could possibly get into with his Uncle or otherwise. On the other hand...

He could always convert a bit of his wizarding money into muggle money and supplement the food allowance that way. He had more than enough to spare for one year, and it wasn’t as if he wasn’t _allowed_ to. He doubted that his parents would have wanted him to go hungry when he had the means to avoid it not more than a Knight Bus ride away from him. But the downside to this would be that he would have to go into Gringott’s, and going into Diagon Alley when he was supposed to be... not there, well, it wasn’t the most appealing of trips Harry had ever taken. For one, Sirius Black was a wizard and was still technically after him –going into a wizarding district could either be the safest or the stupidest option. For another, he _really_ didn’t like the recognition his scar garnered in the magical world, he never had, which was the only reason he wasn’t kicking up too much of a fuss about staying in muggle London.

But Harry also didn’t like the possibility of going without food for however long.

Vvv

Harry ventured out of the housing complex a little under an hour later, dressed in his best fitting jeans (from Dudley’s eleventh birthday) and his Hogwart’s uniform shirt, with his backpack slung over his shoulder. Inside of it were about 20 pounds, some wizard money, his Gringott’s key, his wand, and the book on birds he had found on the bookcase. It was hot and sunny in the small district, made worse from the sheer number of people out walking the streets or milling around the alleys and doorways. Harry walked about a block away from his building before he stopped and leaned against a wall to take stock of where he was.

Harry really didn’t have any idea of where he was going besides _eventually_ Diagon Alley, but before he even thought about hailing the Knight bus he had resolved to do a bit of looking around his new neighbourhood. He had been rather familiar with Little Whinging from all of his weekend and late night wanderings of the place, so being in this new area was going to take a bit of getting used to, if he ever did at all. From what he had seen on the drive over, he had gathered that Ginuliad was easily traversed by foot if not by cars. From what little he had heard his uncle muttering, it also was a haven for immigrants hoping to set up a small shop or some such. Briefly glancing around the bustling street, Harry couldn’t say he disagreed with the man –even from where he was standing he could already spot three clearly ethnic convenience stores and one international grocer.

Harry made a mental note of it, for when he would do his grocery shopping, and then pushed off of the wall and strode off down another block, similar to his own with its spidery trees and narrow walkways, but done in red brick instead of grey. On this street he found a tiny second hand shop, one that had a display window that gave Harry an idea for how he was going to avoid being recognized in Diagon Alley. Hearing the clink of Galleons in his backpack very acutely, Harry ducked into the shop and made his way over to the counter straight away.

“Excuse me, Miss?” He asked, drawing the attention of the young woman –or rather, young man behind the counter. Before he could even attempt to apologize, the other teenager waved him off with an air of finality.

“Happens, kid. What do you want?”

“Er –could, could I see the clips-ons in the display? And the bandanas too, please?”

“Sure.” The older teen made getting out of his seat look like an extremely troublesome task, but he didn’t waste time when retrieving the requested items. He placed them on the counter in front of Harry and sat back down again, watching what Harry was doing with no amount of subtlety.

Harry removed his glasses first, folding the arms down and comparing the frames with the clip-on sun lenses the employee had fetched for him. Harry was lucky to have such old fashioned glasses, because the third pair from the bottom matched the standard circular frames almost exactly, and only had a minor crack in the left eye. Harry tried it on to see how it would fit, and then pushed it over to the side so he could look over the bandanas as well. If he could find one he liked, he could tie it around his forehead and prevent anyone from even seeing his scar in the first place, and once he bought a new shirt (one that wasn’t anything close to his Hogwart’s shirt) he would be unrecognizable to anyone who didn’t know him well.

“Sneaking out or som’mat?” The teen asked boredly, making Harry jump and flush dark. “Thought so. Here’s a tip –dress in colours people think of as the opposite of you. If you’re a goth, you wear bright ass yellow. If you have a recognizable piercing, you put on a pink flowery scarf. Trust me.”

Harry didn’t know whether the older boy was only looking for something to take his mind off the empty shop, but it was good advice. With that in mind Harry disregarded the gold, yellow or red bandanas and scrutinized the remaining three –one purple, one brown with green lilies, and one striped black and yellow. That last one he shoved aside almost right away –too gaudy –but he liked the one with the lilies on it. It was unsurprising that he held a fondness for the flower, but the fact that the cloth was somewhat army green was an added bonus, as no one would expect the Gryffindor Boy-Who-Lived to wear a Slytherin colour.

“Could you hold these here? I want to look at shirts.”

“Yeah. Second row over.”

It took him a slightly longer time to find a shirt he liked since most of the men’s shirts were too large for him, but after a while he found an army green v-neck made out of a thin material that would be wonderful to wear in this heat, even with the long sleeves (he wanted to cover the scar he got from the Basilisk just in case). The laidback teen even let him use the change room to switch shirts before he paid, with the total coming out to three pounds and fifty pence (better than he had expected). Harry knew that his muggle wardrobe left something to be desired, so he also was going to remember where this shop was so he could find some better fitting, cheaper clothes to wear (that didn’t make him look as if he had shrunk two sizes overnight).

Walking a few more blocks led Harry past all sorts of shops and things to do, and really cemented just how diverse the whole district was. He saw a small cinema, a couple auto-repair shops, several bookstores, convenience stores and grocers, and even a tiny museum dedicated to the various factories that had set up in Ginuliad over the years. There weren’t many sprawling parks to be seen, but when he had briefly come upon the corner of one of the factory areas, he saw that there was a fenced off jungle gym and swings nearby with a sign up saying that the factory sponsored it. There were many restaurants, including the ‘Castella’s’ that Mr. Kuniyoshi had professed to being the owner of, which Harry wouldn’t enter today but liked the look of. And there were all manner of different churches and international stores, specialty shops and ethnic-themed eateries; so many so that after a while Harry couldn’t even remember half of them.

Then Harry got to the edge of the district, near one of the abandoned factories that served as a sort of marker for the border being close. There were a lot of fences surrounding empty parking lots or the couple still running factories, with towering smoke stacks and old, old trees every block or so and an overpass connecting one of the roads to the A13, which went out of Barking and Dagenham, through Havering and onto the M25 (it was the highway that Uncle Vernon had used to get them to Ginuliad). There were some suburbs on the other side of the empty lots, though they were a tad rundown and the houses seemed scarce, and in the distance Harry could just make out the exact location of the border between this borough and Havering –the only river in the area besides the Thames.

Here was a better place than any to call the bus in his opinion, what with the deserted streets and all, but as Harry rummaged in his bag for his wand he heard a rumbling coming up from inside the warehouse behind him. Thinking it was some kind of moving truck, he skirted out of the way of the open gate and half hid beside a large maple on the sidewalk, tucking his wand into his pants pocket just as the rumbling grew intolerably loud and passed him by in a whirlwind of heat and noise.

Motorbikes flew onto the street from inside the warehouse yard, two and then five and then ten all at once, roaring past and down the road the way Harry had just come from. Harry only glimpsed the riders briefly, but they were all wearing leather or denim with some sort of logo embossed on it, and then they were gone, hollering at the top of their lungs with no respect to the housing they were heading towards.

Harry stared after them unabashedly, caught off guard by their sudden appearance from what he had presumed was a defunct factory, devoid of any life. Shooting a suspicious glance over his shoulder at the now silent building, Harry shrugged his bag over his shoulder one more time and walked another block down the road.

When the Knight Bus rolled up to the curb a minute later, Harry already knew exactly what he was going to say once Stan had finished his spiel.

“Ken Kuniyoshi. I’ll be going to the Leaky Cauldron.”

“Step right on board ‘en, Mister Koonyoshi. Five sickles’ll be the fee.” Harry sat down on one of the cushy armchairs and dug through his bag for his coin pouch, handing Stan the few silver pieces just a moment before the Knight Bus rocketed off again. Unlike the night he had run away from Privet Drive, Stan didn’t stop to chat with him, instead moving back up to the front to scribble something onto a paper pinned to the back of one of the chairs. Harry was glad for it, having wondered whether or not the young conductor would recognize him even with his last minute disguise hiding his scar, hair, and eyes. But it ended up not being much of a problem at all, and the few stops before his to the wizarding pub passed by unencumbered, letting Harry relax fully for one of the first times that day, even knowing where he was heading to as he did.

He received a disinterested wave from the young conductor as he stepped off the Bus, which he returned even as it sped off again, completely gone from sight within seconds. Grinning slightly and for once not nervous, Harry hitched his backpack up in preparation and made his move to go into the pub.

The Leaky Cauldron was sparsely populated, with only about four tables occupied and Tom the bartender snoozing in his seat behind the counter. Grateful for the respite, Harry hurried to the back door, keeping his wand drawn and tapping the required bricks with ease. Diagon Alley wasn’t much busier than the pub, most families having run their errands while school shopping, so Harry couldn’t have asked for a better time to be here. He didn’t linger at the shops like he had just the week before; he didn’t meander through the street or wave to Mr. Fortescue, or stop to take a look around and let his freedom soak in. Harry just wanted to be in and out of the wizarding district before anyone recognized him, and with this in mind he walked briskly over the familiar cobblestones all the way up to the Gringotts entrance, past the Goblin guards and to the first available teller.

The Goblin sitting there scrutinized him for a moment, and then he set down his quill and drew himself up to full height. “May I help you?” The tone was professional, the Goblin’s face blank, so Harry nodded and rummaged in his pocket, pulling out his vault key and setting it on the counter in front of the teller.

“I need to take some money out of my vault, and then convert it into muggle money.” Harry said plainly, waiting as the Goblin examined his key closely. After a minute the teller handed it back to him and made a gesture with his right hand, and soon a second Goblin approached from Harry’s level.

“Gornuk will show you to your vault, and convert your money. Please inform Mister Potter of the current exchange rates on the way down.” The other Goblin, Gornuk, nodded once and they swept away to the right, through one of the doors leading to the bank’s many carts. Unlike the last time he’d needed to go down to the vault, Gornuk put the speed at a balmy level 5, so that they could both speak and freeze from the winds at the same time.

“The current exchange rate is one British Pound to 3.44 Sickles. Do you have an idea of the amount you will be exchanging?” Harry thought back to his budget estimations; if he already had 300 pounds for just food, and he stocked up on preserves and cans and things while he could, then he really only needed enough to supplement his food money, buy himself necessities and smaller furnishings, and have some (both muggle and magical) tucked away for an emergency.

“I’ll be needing three hundred Pounds once it’s converted, as well as around twenty Galleons to be left as is... as well as enough to cover the transaction fee?” Gornuk hummed and was silent up until the cart slowed to a stop in front of the Potter vault.

“That will be eighty one Galleons in total, with sixty Galleons and ten Sickles being converted while seven Sickles will be the transaction fee. If you could put sixty one Galleons in this bag,” Here the Goblin gave Harry an unassuming, purple draw string pouch. “Then your converted money will be waiting upon our return upstairs.”

“Okay, thank you.” Harry clambered out of the vehicle and spent no longer than ten minutes sorting everything out inside the bank vault. He wrapped all of the Galleons he would be carrying in his Hogwarts shirt so they wouldn’t clink around while he walked, and filled the pouch just as Gornuk had directed him to. He also spent a minute looking around, something he hadn’t thought to ever do before; but the chamber wasn’t very large and the only other things left inside were a few ornamental spears, a jewellery box inscribed to be for someone named Edith Canterbury, and a small scroll that he took with him, which appeared to be a recording of his family tree. Gornuk was still sitting patiently in the cart when Harry slid back inside, and took the offered bag of Galleons with what _could_ have been an approving look.

The rest of Harry’s trip to Diagon wasn’t nearly as eventful, as all he did before calling the Knight Bus again was purchase an enchanted wallet at one of the shops to the left of Gringotts –it was for both muggle and wizard currency, and had two small (but bigger on the inside) zippered pockets for his coins and slots for cards and notes. It was the only luxury he envisioned buying the first couple of months, as he didn’t even want to _chance_ running himself dry before he could eventually add to his vault himself.

His walk home was quiet in the cooling air of the late afternoon; he didn’t hear any groups of motorcycles on his way, and the international grocer he stopped in was deserted so near to closing. He didn’t buy much as he browsed the aisles; a tin of the brand of tea he had liked from the Weasley’s, one loaf of bread, a few cans of soup, a bunch of (on sale) apples, a jug of milk and a saucepan for the stove. He didn’t want to go overboard and end up with a bunch of rotten food –he could make multiple trips during the coming weeks.

There was a slight incident when he arrived back at the entrance to Edenton; a boy who couldn’t have been more than a few months older than Harry had been smoking at one of the tables and had stood just as Harry had brushed past, which had pushed the other’s cigarette right out of his hand only half finished. Harry had been cussed out rather soundly before the boy stormed off into the same building Ken Kuniyoshi lived in, but it had happened so fast that Harry hadn’t had any time to react.

When Harry got back to his –home? –he took a bit of time to plug the refrigerator back in, stow everything he had bought into the right places, and then cut up one of the apples for himself. Upon moving into the main room, he found Hedwig waiting impatiently for him on the desk, an unfamiliar owl drinking from her water dish bearing two letters addressed to him.

Harry didn’t waste any time reading them once he recognized Hermione and Ron’s handwriting on the scrolls. It was a mixed sort of feeling he got once he was done –on the one hand, he was incredibly happy to hear from them, ecstatic even... but then he was also frustrated that he wasn’t there with them. Hermione sounded so excited to be taking all of her new classes; she was right in her element this year and apparently thriving, though he knew she was downplaying that for his benefit and instead mainly asked how he was doing. She also wrote a bit about how Ron was down about his absence, and she was worried that with all her extra classes they might not have as much spare time to see each other. Ron’s letter was shorter, reporting on the classes and Oliver’s brief meltdown (and asking if he could tell the older boy about _why_ Harry wasn’t there so he would recover faster), with a small bit at the end saying how he missed having him around and hoped they could see each other during Christmas. Ron had also spoken about Hermione, concerned about her running herself into the ground but also acknowledging that it was her own choice if she did. Harry wondered at that; how different they already sounded in a letter... how different would his best friends be when he next saw them?

Harry decided to write a response the next day instead of putting off his meagre dinner, and thanked the school owl before it flew out again. He propped the window open for Hedwig, ate his food silently and then fell onto the bedroll without a second thought, falling asleep within minutes.


	6. Settling In

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter.”

“Hello, Mr. Kopinak.”

Harry stepped away from the entrance and into the kitchen, letting the older man toe his shoes off while he scooted around him to close the door.  It had been several days since his excursion into Diagon Alley, and since then he had spent his time getting used to his new abode and continually adjusting it to his liking, along with giving everything a thorough cleaning. By the time his tutor was ready to show up for their first class, Harry had finished all he felt he needed to and was –dare he say it –comfortable.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Tea, maybe?” Harry asked tentatively as he showed the older man into the main room, a bit embarrassed at his lack of a proper table with chairs but somewhat proud he could do something as grown up as offer tea. His tutor sat at the low table without a moment’s hesitation and accepted the offer, so Harry excused himself and went into the kitchen to get it ready.

After Harry had woke up the morning following his trip to his vault, he had written back to Hermione and Ron; telling them about his new home, the area he was now living in, how he missed them too and wanted to see them on the holidays if nothing else. He neglected to mention his living alone, and his going to Gringott’s –only so he wouldn’t worry them –but made sure to make up for that by including as many other details as possible.

During the time in between then and now, he had cleaned house and rearranged the main room a few times to see if he liked it better, before moving everything back to where it had been before and deciding that that was the only way the room worked. When he had attempted to venture out onto the balcony to clean it, he had found that the door wouldn’t open past a certain point and had asked the landlord about it –and had them been directed to his neighbour across the hall, Hanan Lutz.

Mrs. Lutz was an extremely old woman with olive skin splotched with both dark and pale patches, long, dark grey hair plaited down her back, and large glasses perched on top of a bent nose not unlike that of Professor Dumbledore. She had answered the door silently, slightly stooped and dressed in a yellow plaid dress shirt and work pants, and she stared patiently at Harry until the thirteen year old had choked out the reason for calling on her. With only a nod and some sort of understanding hum she had grabbed a toolbox from beside the door, followed Harry into his apartment and set to work on adjusting the door. Within ten minutes the door was fixed and the old woman had sort of pat Harry on the head and nodded before leaving, having not spoken a single word the entire time she had been there.

He had gone again to the second hand shop with the teenage cashier –Tanner, he said his name was –and bought a few things that caught his eye; a toaster and kettle, two frying pans, a garbage bin to put under the sink, a four person set of forks, spoons and knives along with a spatula, two towels, two washcloths and three hand towels, and a few more pieces of clothing so he could finally get rid of Dudley’s old cast offs. He had gone to the grocer and bought a few more essentials; butter, milk, sandwich meat, and eggs for food, and then dish soap, toilet paper, laundry stuffs, garbage bags, shampoo and toothpaste. While there he had lingered in the produce aisle to try and get a feeling for whether or not this place was cheaper than the grocer in Little Whinging –it was, and he was glad for it –because he knew from his aunt that vegetables could go a lot farther than meat, and they were generally cheaper too.

And once all that had been tucked away and he had settled down, he had looked over Mr. Kopinak’s letter again and made a list of the questions he wanted to ask, as well as what in the apartment he needed disguising. The list wasn’t very long, but covered all that Harry felt necessary and made him feel responsible.

He hadn’t yet looked at the scroll he’d taken from Gringott’s.

“Er –here you go.”Harry said a bit awkwardly, setting the rattling cup and saucer beside the tutor’s stack of papers that had appeared on the table. It was only now that he had noticed just how out of place the fine china looked when compared to the rest of the room. “I’m –I don’t have any sugar, sorry, but I have milk if you need it?”

“No, no, this is just fine for me, Mr. Potter. Thank you.” The older man took a short sip from the cup before he spoke again. “Now, before we begin, do you have anything you wanted to discuss?”

Harry sat on the other side of the table and brought the list he had written the day before out from his shirt pocket. The few questions he had, mostly about the schedule, were answered easily enough; from Monday to Wednesday Harry would be in charge of himself, going over any theory the tutor assigned, practicing spells from the previous week and completing homework (which he would send over to Mr. Kopinak for marking before five in the evening on Wednesday). From Thursday to Saturday Mr. Kopinak would come to the apartment for a few hours before and after lunch, and use the time to go over his homework and spellwork with him to correct any problems, and to give him the assignments he wanted done by the following Wednesday. Harry had Sundays and the occasional weekday to do whatever he wanted –it was only a one day weekend because he wasn’t attending formal classes.

 Mr. Kopinak also took the time to explain his lesson plans fully and to make sure they covered things that Harry was interested in as well, in both the magical and muggle sense. He took the signed waiver Harry had been holding onto since their meeting in Diagon Alley, gave him a few more papers (such as a definite schedule for his days off and holiday breaks) and once that all was out of the way he asked about whether Harry had anything he needed disguising.

“Well, Hedwig’s a bit noticeable, flying in and out of my window all the time... and I’ve got all my school books sitting out in the open over there on the bookshelves, so those things definitely. Oh, and maybe just a locking charm on my Potions supply drawer?” Harry said, not wanting to make the older man do _too_ much magic (he was still a bit nervous about getting a Ministry letter). “That’s... all I can think of for now. Maybe if I notice something later...”

“Of course, no need to try and cover everything at once. But with that said, how about we have a quick lesson today on household and minor illusory magic? Unless you have something planned, then we can leave it for another day.”

“No, no, I don’t have anything going on!” Harry assured the tutor quickly. “I-I’d like to learn those things, actually. When do they cover them at Hogwarts?”

“Usually during your second semester in 7th year –whether you continue Charms past the OWLs or not, they do assume most of you move out of the family home at some point. Grab some paper or parchment while I find my copy of the textbook and we’ll get started...”

When Harry bade the tutor goodbye a little less than two hours later, he was feeling a lot more confident about how the arrangement would go. This was the first time in two years he had really been able to concentrate and absorb the contents of a lesson instead of, well, forgetting most of it the minute class ended. Mr. Kopinak had had him copy down each spell, the pronunciation, a bit about what the spell’s purpose and effects were and then diagram the wand movements, all before he had even let him try the spell –which he did individually and wouldn’t move on to the next until Harry had at least been able to properly say the words and perform the movements, if not work the magic. Harry liked the set up –it was certainly more rewarding than Snape’s so-called teaching methods.

Vvv

As September passed and the weeks went on, Harry continued to hold the same opinion of the tutor and his teaching. They went on with Charms, Transfiguration and Potions, both the theory and practical. With DADA and Herbology they stuck to theory until Mr. Kopinak arranged a regular session at the Ministry’s greenhouses and duelling hall (which they did on Wednesday mornings), and they went through History of Magic backwards, beginning with current events and the magical political systems and working backwards.

They bypassed Astronomy altogether (the older man was of the opinion that it was a useless subject in the modern day and Harry agreed with him) and also started catching Harry up on the muggle subjects he had been neglecting the past two years. That part of the curriculum, not surprisingly, ended up taking the spaces of not only Harry’s former electives, but also the Astronomy slot and an extra two hours every Saturday afternoon. He was still mainly relearning the maths and sciences from his last year in muggle school, but soon Mr. Kopinak was going to start him on a whole smattering of different subjects; more math and science, nutrition and physical education, health, how to manage money (budgeting and taxes), current and historical muggle events, first aid (near the end of the year he would take a certification course), and another slew of minor topics that would cover everything from developing technologies and medicines to the British and world political systems.

All of it Harry was able to handle well enough –he didn’t _flourish_ to be sure, but could at least say he wasn’t actively failing at any of his endeavours, not even Potions which used to be his least favourite subject.

A couple of times, usually on Wednesday or Thursday afternoons, he would go out into the courtyard after he was finished his homework or to bid Mr. Kopinak goodbye and would be beckoned over to sit with Mrs. Lutz and her son, Rafid. It was mainly Rafid, who was in his mid fifties that kept up the conversation, but occasionally Mrs. Lutz would cut in as well –and they always had an extra Spezi (a kind of German soda) that they gave to him when he had to leave.

As well, Harry now received and sent more mail than he had ever needed to do in previous months away from the school. He got two letters a week from Hermione and Ron, keeping him up to date on the school and themselves and what he was missing –which wasn’t actually much to be honest. He also got a weekly letter from Neville, and Professor McGonagall of all people, the former keeping his promise of writing regularly (most of their conversations were about interesting plants and magical things Neville could explain that Harry had never heard of) and the latter doing her duty as his Head of House and checking on his schooling and wellbeing. There was also the occasional letter from Mr. Kopinak about rescheduling, one or two from other Gryffindors, and a single letter from Ginny (thanking him for saving her).

The letters were great to read, and made him feel a lot better about being away from Hogwarts. He was even starting to quite like living in Ginuliad, since after Mr. Kopinak’s first visit Harry had gone out into the district whenever he was finished his work for the day, having suffered a bout of cabin fever once the apartment was tuned to how he liked. The busy district was even more interesting when he wasn’t planning on catching the Knight Bus –and he had thoroughly perused many of the small shops in the area, getting to meet all sorts of different people in the process. He had even walked past a small gurdwara –which he would have gone into had he not needed to get back for whatever reason. He liked the experience for other reasons too –he had always enjoyed people watching, and being in a muggle area where no one recognized him as _Harry Potter_ (either as the Boy-Who-Lived or the ‘ne’er-do-well’ of Little Whinging) only made him have a better time about it.

So he was kept fairly busy, but by the end of his first month there, Harry couldn’t escape the niggling feeling that he was forgetting something that could be important. He spent the whole day confined indoors by the rain and being restless; cleaning, trying to read, grooming Hedwig until she got annoyed and cuffed him, doing his laundry and making himself small snacks. He was frustrated enough to think about cleaning his trunk out when he tripped on his rucksack, hit his knee off of the corner of the table and spilled the bag’s contents all over the floor.

Hissing slightly as he hobbled onto one foot, he checked to make sure he hadn’t broken the skin and then surveyed the mess. A few Galleons had skidded into the hallway and there was a white thing sticking out from behind the wall, but otherwise nothing else had fallen out. He waited a minute more before moving, going for whatever the white thing on the floor was first since it was the closest.

With the scroll now in his hand, Harry felt like a bit of an idiot. Staring up at him from the roll of parchment was an unfamiliar crest pressed into wax and _Family Line_ written underneath it in tight script. Stepping back so he could sit at the table, Harry shook his head at himself in disbelief for forgetting something like this for so long.

When he unfurled the short roll of parchment, he expected to see... something written on the inside. Names, lines connecting clusters of families, dates, a sketch of an actual family tree, _something_ –but it was blank. To be sure of it, he flattened the thing out completely and scanned the paper closely, and after a minute spotted a sentence written up at the very top of the scroll; _State full name, descendant of Nigellus._

Harry didn’t know who Nigellus was, but if the scroll was in his family’s vault then they must have been his ancestor or something. “Harry James Potter.” The thirteen year old intoned steadily, and then watched in fascination as his name appeared in the middle of the parchment, with his mother’s side snaking down towards the bottom and his father’s side going the opposite.

Underneath each name was the person’s date of birth and death, as well as how they were related to Harry himself. Inspection of his mother’s family showed him that Edith Canterbury –whose jewellery box was sitting in the Potter Gringott’s vault –was actually his great-great aunt from his mother’s mother’s side. The line only went down about three generations on his mother’s section, and it even included a small offshoot with Vernon Dursley’s sister and parent’s names there; it made Harry laugh to think about how his magic-loathing relatives would react if they ever found out about this list.

Unfortunately, besides his aunt Petunia he couldn’t find any other relatives who were still alive at the moment, so he moved down to take a look at his father’s side. That side snaked up at least seven generations, probably due to the fact that his father was a pureblood, and showed a clearly defined split between his grandparent’s families. Charlus Potter had been the last remaining member of what had once been a fairly well sized family, with both him and all the others having died before Harry had even been born. Looking to his grandmother, Harry stopped breathing in shock for a moment –because her name was Dorea _Black._

Harry didn’t know much about pureblood families at all, not on his first day at Hogwarts and not now, two years later. He didn’t know if Black was a common name among wizards or whether this was just a coincidence, but nevertheless he went through that side of his... his _family_ with more care than the others.

The first thing he noticed was that nearly all his relatives on that side bore the Black name, and that it had been an even larger family than the Potters... with a similar fate of most being dead already. After going through the older generations up to the eponymous Nigellus Black (Harry’s great-great-great-great-grandfather), he traced the line from Dorea Black to her siblings and then down to Cygnus Black II’s children. As he read, he noticed that he had a living second cousin named Bellatrix, and then another named Andromeda with a daughter (Nymphadora) only seven years older than he was, and then-

And then he was related to Draco Malfoy. ‘ _second cousin once removed_ ’ shone proudly from underneath the other boy’s birth date, with a little line connecting him to Narcissa Malfoy nee Black (second cousin) and Lucius Malfoy (in-law). There was another little offshoot from Lucius that said ‘ _malfoy family’_ , but Harry didn’t care about that, all that mattered was that the boy he had disliked from the get-go... was... was related to him...

Harry deftly pushed it out of his mind for the moment, not quite ready to analyze this newfound revelation and all the now uncomfortable childhood hopes of family that it would inevitably bring back up. Instead he wrote on a scrap of paper the names of Bellatrix, Andromeda and Nymphadora and resolved to maybe find out a bit about them in the future.

Then he moved on, to Cygnus’ other child Walburga –who was his first cousin once removed and had married his second cousin once removed, Orion. That struck him as a little odd, because if he worked it out then they would have been second cousins to each other... but as his eyes slid down the line to their two children he found himself forgetting all about that too.

Sirius Black III ‘ _second cousin’ ‘godfather’_ underneath the same birth date as James and Lily and alongside Regulus Black II _1961-1979_ ‘ _second cousin’_. If Harry could barely process being related to Draco Malfoy, then this was like being slammed into a brick wall on his Nimbus 2000. He... had a godfather? A godfather that was _alive?_ His godfather was his second cousin and his father’s first cousin once removed and they had been in the same year at Hogwarts –had they been friends? –weren’t godparents normally restricted to people your parents trusted you with –Sirius Black was a Voldemort supporter and had broken out of Azkaban to kill his own godson-

Harry halted himself abruptly, pushing the paper away and feeling like he was looking at a tiny portion of something that eclipsed an even larger issue. If he had a godfather then why had he gone to the Dursley’s? Had the man already been in Azkaban at the time, or had he gone to prison after his parents had died? If it was the former, why hadn’t his parents revoked his godparent status when it was revealed he was a supporter of Voldemort (wouldn’t there have been a trial to publicize that? Harry was sure that Mr. Kopinak had said Death Eaters had been given trials back then), and if it was the latter...

Harry stood briefly to grab a clean piece of parchment off of the desk, and then sat back down to smooth it out onto the tabletop. Hesitantly, he started writing a letter to Gringotts, asking if there was anyone he could talk to about his parent’s wishes concerning his guardianship back before they had died.

Vvv

By the time it got to be late October, Harry found himself in a routine, partially fuelled by wanderlust and otherwise due to the ever present frustration at how long it was taking Gringott’s to write back to him. Logically he knew that as the only wizarding bank in the Isles they probably fielded dozens of letters and inquiries a day, but it still irked him.

But anyhow, the new routine was this; he woke up early in the morning from his alarm clock (normally at seven or so) and fixed himself something to eat before heading out to do any errands that needed doing. Whether it was grocery shopping, going to call on Mrs. Lutz for a repair (she was always up and about at six) or even just straightening up inside, he found it easier to get it done early in the day –on Wednesdays he and Mr. Kopinak would apparate to the Ministry for his Herbology and DADA practical. If it was Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday he would spend from about ten o’clock to three getting his work finished, practicing what he could and then sending it all off with Hedwig on Wednesday. If it happened to be Thursday through Saturday he would have lessons with Mr. Kopinak at the same times (with an eleven o’clock start time and an extra two hours on Saturdays), and on the Sundays he’d use that period to read and respond to letters, and to do laundry. After that he’d normally nap until the evening, have dinner, and then go out into the neighbourhood to explore.

He knew he probably shouldn’t be traipsing about the district after dark, but it did wonders for his sleeping habits and Ginuliad was just as interesting at night as it was during the day, if not more so. Everything on the busier streets was all lit up with neon and strings of lights, places that were never open in the morning came to life after eight o’clock, and instead of there being kids running and crowding everywhere there was more of a teenage and young adult population –and they were much more interesting to observe. And with his bandana and sunglasses (he only wore the clip ons during the day really) he had found that along with being safe from recognition he was also being mistaken for a bit of an older teen, so he wasn’t being asked about where his parents were nearly as often as he might have been otherwise.

The only breaks in this schedule were when there was a holiday in the borough or similar; Mr. Kopinak had factored in more off days during the second term because he would also be increasing Harry’s work load some, but he had a few during the first term as well, one of which being Halloween (though it fell on a Sunday this year). Harry had spent a bit of his budget on candy for the kids in the building and had sat with Rafid in the hallway, pooling their treats together so they lasted longer and letting the older man natter on and introduce him to the adults who trailed after their costumed children exasperatedly.

He even received a case of Spezi from Mrs. Lutz at the end of the night, because despite his assurances she found it odd that he didn’t go out to collect candy himself. Harry hadn’t ever gone out to get candy in his life –in hindsight, it was probably because his aunt thought it might encourage the magic in him if he went out and saw witch and wizard costumes, though Dudley had always gone. But he was used to it now –and appreciated the thought behind the soda just as much as the company Rafid offered for the evening.

It was just as well –Harry didn’t feel like going out in the first place, and ever since his aunt had actually told him the date of his parents dying ‘in that car crash’ when he was five, he had felt a certain... not pride, but more an acceptance that he was to stay in. Halloween was usually the night that he thought the most about ‘what if’s and the like; it was only the years at Hogwarts that he had put that aside and tried to enjoy the night for the holiday that it was.

It was Bonfire Night he had always liked best, because that was his uncle’s favourite holiday as well and he had always made sure to have that night off from work so that they could go to one of the big parks a few neighbourhoods away. When Harry had gotten to be about six, his uncle had started giving him two pounds when they went to the festivities, and then sent him off to do what he wanted with instructions to be back at the car at a certain time. There was a lot that a six year old could do with two pounds in the 80s, and as such Harry now held a distinct fondness for Parkin Cake –there had been a young couple just moved from Yorkshire when that first solo Bonfire Night had come around, and they had been selling it in that park up until the year before he had left for Hogwarts (and still were for all he knew).

So when he went out this year for the festivities –held in one of the factory yards nearest to the main street, cleaned up by that company specifically for this purpose –he treated himself to a few pieces and vowed to learn how to make it. He spotted Mr. Kuniyoshi and spoke with him about the history behind the date for a bit until the man had to leave. He watched the fireworks display in silence and hollered along with the rest of them when it was over, and on his way home he let himself get pulled into a group of slightly older teenagers and sang along with them to some of the simpler rhymes, all while trying not to laugh at the elation he felt at it all. Harry didn’t even think about Sirius Black, because only a couple days earlier he had received a boatload of letters informing him about how the Fat Lady had been attacked –and Ron had explicitly told him how they had overheard Dumbledore say it was the escapee who had done it.

So while he waited for a Gringott’s letter he would of course be careful and watch himself, but he would also be enjoying himself on his favourite night as much as he could. He was flush with merriment by the time he stumbled back home, grinning wider than he remembered doing for a long time, having kept out of trouble like Hermione wanted –that was all he could be asked for.


	7. Lonely

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

On the Saturday about a week after Bonfire Night, while out and about the town on his usual walk, Harry was farther than he normally strayed from his neighbourhood when he found himself extremely hungry, having missed both lunch and supper that day due to not having the wherewithal to eat before leaving. It was about ten o’clock, he really didn’t feel like trekking back through the district to a nearly empty fridge, and he _had_ been pinching pennies lately –so when he walked about a block more to see a deserted window to a Chinese takeout place, he decided that one night eating out wouldn’t hurt. It took a little over ten minutes for his order –fried rice with lemon chicken –to be sorted out and handed to him, and instead of wandering around looking for a picnic table to sit at he ended up only a few paces away, sitting on the street curb and facing the other side of the road.

Since he very rarely ate take out even when he had been at the Dursley’s, Harry took his time eating; wanting to enjoy it as much as he could because he knew he probably wouldn’t treat himself like this for a while. But that wasn’t so bad –having a budget and sticking to it just made him feel good about himself –after all, he was pretty sure that Dudley couldn’t be trusted with his _allowance_ let alone providing food and amenities for himself responsibly.

Harry was so focused on his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the shouts coming from the alley across the street at first. He only picked up on it when he had to stand to throw away his empty container, and by then it had evolved from an angry confrontation to a full out fight between one person and two attackers. Harry felt awkward watching from where he was standing, wondering if he should get the takeout place to call the cops. But it looked as if the lone fighter wasn’t doing too badly against the other two –in fact, whoever it was had already sent one of them staggering back from a punch to the nose and was holding the other off as well. Harry probably would have let it play out and forgotten about it, had he not caught sight of someone sneaking up behind the outnumbered fighter with what looked to be a tire iron half raised to strike.

And like so many times before, Harry’s budding saving-people-thing kicked in and spurned him into action. Spinning around and scanning the sidewalk behind him, he ran over to the pile of garbage waiting for collection the next day and grabbed the first thing he spotted; a length of wood sticking out of a trash bin. Without even thinking about it, he ripped it out of the canister, turned back around and practically sprinted across the pavement towards the person with the tire iron. They obviously heard him coming, but unfortunately reacted too slowly and turned around only to get hit in the center of their forehead by Harry swinging his weapon down as hard as he could. As if he would flinch when faced with a measly piece of metal after he had taken down both a Troll and a _Basilisk_ -

Harry backed away quickly when the man dropped like a sack of potatoes, not wanting to try and help anymore and risk hitting the wrong person. A minute later though the fighting was over –the man had knocked out his two opponents with minimal difficulty. Harry stiffened and clutched at the wooden beam nervously when the remaining fighter turned around to regard him (Harry was unable to make out his features), and then stepped over his downed attacker and into the light.

The man he had helped out looked to be only a few years older than him, and openly stared at him in what was either surprise or appraisal. He looked to be of Asian descent, with dark eyes and slightly wavy black hair pulled back into a short ponytail at the base of his neck, and he was taller than Harry by at least a foot. He was dressed in a white v-neck, grey jeans, and a black jacket, and looked incredibly composed for someone who had just come out of a brawl.

“So I’m guessing you’re _not_ a member of Double-Heads Dragon?” He asked after a minute of staring, and Harry was quick to shake his head in the negative.

“I don’t even know what that is.” He admitted, lowering the plank to his side, noticing how the teen followed it with his eyes although he looked relaxed.

“S’just as well. Name’s Muneharu Maekawa, thanks for that.” Here Muneharu none too gently kicked the one that Harry had struck on the head, drawing a pained grunt from the dubiously conscious man. “Prob’ly would have caught me with that iron had you not come in.”

“Er, it’s no problem. I’m Harry Potter.” Harry stuck out his free hand awkwardly, and Muneharu didn’t hesitate to give it a solid shake. “I’m just glad he went down so easily... think they’ll be okay just lying there?”

Muneharu looked surprised that he had asked, and let out a near silent laugh. “Yeah, Esteban comes out here to sweep in the mornings; if they’re still here he’ll take care of them.” A considering look. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

Harry felt himself turn red under Muneharu’s scrutinizing gaze. “Ah, no, you wouldn’t have... I moved here from Surrey at the beginning of September. I live in Edenton Court.”

“Hm.” Muneharu was quiet and so Harry took the opportunity to lean the piece of wood against the garbage can standing beside him. “Well if that’s how it is, I’d better take you out to dinner.”

Harry’s mind stuttered and he turned to look incredulously at the now grinning teen. “Take me out to _what_?”

Muneharu laughed again. “You’re a bit young for me –no, I mean as thanks for not letting me get my head bashed in. Especially now I know you’re new around here, because it just wouldn’t be good of me to leave you alone when I barely know you at all.”

Harry felt suddenly as if he had made a very big mistake in helping the older teen out, and hastily tried to redirect the conversation. “Tha-that’s alright, you don’t need to do anything like that! It’s not like I did anything _special_ or anything-“

“Oh, you did more than you think. Here, if you’re so opposed, why not take a week to decide? If you’ll allow me to repay you, meet me here next Saturday at nine –if not, I know where you live!~” At Harry’s       simultaneously embarrassed and horrified expression, Muneharu laughed harder. “That was a joke, a joke! If not then that’s cool too, I’ll probably see you around anyway –I know _everyone_ in Ginuliad after all.”

And with that ominous statement Muneharu waved and trotted off down the road in the opposite direction from where Harry had come from. The wizard stared after him for a long couple of minutes, blushing madly and gaping like a fish, and eventually decided he’d done enough damage for the night and should just go home while he still could.

Vvv

The week passed uneventfully; no new letters, no word from Gringott’s, no more cleaning that he could justify, and no wandering during the evenings –for fear(?) that he would run into Muneharu. Harry had been distracted during the lessons and had forgotten to eat on several occasions, so that when he woke up late at night after his afternoon naps he was absolutely starving. He wondered why he was letting the muggle he had helped out get under his skin like this –if it had been _Malfoy_ he could understand it, but thinking logically about it he knew that he had no reason to be so worked up about the whole situation. It wasn’t as if Muneharu had really said anything untoward... but still Harry couldn’t get over the notion that the older boy had... slighted him, somehow.

He was so distracted by the quickly approaching Saturday that by the time Wednesday rolled around, Mr. Kopinak had noticed and excused him from lessons for the rest of the week. “You need a break, I think.” He had said even after Harry had protested. “We _have_ been covering more advanced magic than you’re used to, and you’ve started on the new non-magical subjects now –it’s no surprise, really. Take a breather and I’ll come by on Sunday to give you something lighter to work on.”

So the week had turned even _droller_ than he thought that it could get, and that did no favours for Harry’s restlessness. Finally on Friday afternoon he gave in and went out into the district again –almost making a beeline for the Sri Guru Singh Gurdwara a few streets away, situated between a family-run grocer and a tiny bookstore full of old romance novels, announcing its presence unrepentantly with its tall flagpoles and propped open doors.

Harry felt a little out of place in the bustling and lively temple –he wasn’t the only one present without the Kakaars, nor the only one wearing a bandana in place of a turban, but there were no others in his immediate age group that he could see –only adults or younger children. But the elderly man spooning out dollops of rice smiled at him kindly and made him feel a bit better about his awkwardness, and he ended up sitting against a wall on the far side of the room from the doorway. He even had a short conversation with the person next to him; a forty-something year old man whose bright blue dumalla was adorned with five gleaming symbols of the crescent sword and a multitude of decorative chains.

The food was satisfying in a way Harry was nostalgic for, it being a completely vegetarian meal; he felt like it reminded him of something important that was just out of his grasp until now. Just before he was going to stand up to leave, the man he had spent the meal sitting with (who had introduced himself as Kulvir Singh Bhudraja) tapped him on the shoulder and asked whether or not he was going to stay for evening prayers.

“Stay? I don’t, I mean... I’ve never... gone to the prayers before.” His aunt had never held much stock in _any_ religious practices actually, so they had never formally gone to gurdwara or mass once in all his childhood, though Uncle Vernon had been insistent around Christmastime that they go to his and Marge’s childhood church, so there was that. The only reason he knew more than his cousin about _this_ was because he had used to go to a langar in the next neighbourhood over on the days he didn’t get any dinner for using magic. He hadn’t gone back since he had left for Hogwarts, but he had retained information from the people he had met there nonetheless.

“Then you are in luck, they are starting a Sahej Paath tonight. Come inside with me and I’ll introduce you to my son, Nihal.”

Suddenly experiencing a feeling that he couldn’t place, Harry dutifully followed the older man through the door into the main hall and over to the far corner of the room, where a boy about his age was sitting with several smaller children and trying unsuccessfully to keep them calm. When he saw them approach he smiled gratefully and reached around himself to grasp the smallest child and pass her over to Kulvir. Before anyone spoke, Harry had a chance to inspect the other teen; Nihal was probably close to the same age and height as he was, with hazel eyes and presumably dark hair covered by a cheerful orange dumalla that was smaller than his father’s but tied and decorated similarly. He wore the Kara and Kirpan as well, was dressed in a long black skirt and white shirt, and was more muscular than any other thirteen year old Harry had met in his life.

“Harry, this is my son, Nihal. Nihal, this is Harry Potter. He is new to the area and doesn’t know anyone around. Will you sit with him for the evening and explain things to him as they go?” Kulvir sat on the floor on Nihal’s right side while Harry took the left, the other boy studying him for a second before smiling wider and holding out his hand for Harry to shake.

“Good to meet you. Do you know any Punjabi or should I just explain everything?” One of –what Harry assumed to be –Nihal’s younger siblings crawled away from her brother and sat down in front of Harry, only to tip backwards a few seconds later and land so her head was cushioned on his crossed ankles. Harry stilled in shock but made no motion to move the little girl.

“Vohra, behave.” Kulvir chastised, but Harry assured him that he didn’t really mind it –he just didn’t have much experience with kids this small.

“I don’t know any at all, sorry. I grew up with relatives who weren’t religious or... bilingual.” Harry confessed then, cheeks burning. Nihal just shrugged, still smiling, and moved the other two toddlers to sit in front of him as the hall started to fill up and the spaces around them suddenly held more people.

“Then leave it all to me.”

Vvv

Several hours later, Harry followed the Bhudrajas out of the building with the rest of the sangat, and stood off to the side with them in front of the little bookstore to wait for Nihal’s mother to finish cleaning up the hall for the night. He had ended up staying not just for the Rehras Sahib, but for the Kirtan Sohila as well as the various smaller Gurbanis in between –all of which Nihal had translated as they were being recited, if a bit delayed. Over the course of those hours, Vohra had fallen asleep on his legs and he had ended up with her balanced on his hip as they cleared out after services were finished.

“So, how was it? Did I do well?” Nihal asked him as soon as they had settled outside, Kulvir a few feet away with his two youngest (Harpal and Amrik) while Nihal had little Hakam hoisted onto his back, fast asleep just like her sister. “Luckily it wasn’t an Akhand or I probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up for long.”

“I thought it was brilliant.” Harry told him honestly. “Thanks for doing that, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem; anytime you want, just ask. I like doing stuff like that.” Nihal replied. “How come you came today if you’d never been before? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Well, part of it was your Dad.” Nihal shot an amused grin over at his father, who had begun lifting Harpal and Amrik into the air over his head, much to their squealing delight. “And I’ve been feeling off the past week. Whenever I went to the Gurdwara Guru Nanak back in Surrey to eat, I used to always feel better about everything going on afterwards.”

“It’s normal to feel homesick; I still miss Liverpool sometimes.” Nihal sympathized cheerfully.

“Oh, I don’t feel _homesick_ for that... house.” Harry said, trying not to sound bitter. “I met this guy last week –well, more like helped him out without thinking, but anyway. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but before I knew it he’d skipped off after finding out where I live and said that he wanted to take me out to dinner to say thanks. Muneharu _said_ I could decide whether or not to meet him tomorrow, but it sort of feels like I don’t really have a choice.”

“Muneharu _Maekawa_?” Nihal asked, sounding surprised. “He was my senior at school before he transferred last year. If he didn’t know you, it’s no surprise he’d want to if you made an impression on him.”

“So that line about ‘knowing everyone in Ginuliad’ wasn’t just for parting impact?” Nihal snorted, and despite himself Harry found himself chuckling along with him.

“Hahah... I’m pretty sure Maekawa really _does_ know everyone a little bit. You remember Muneharu, right Dad?” Kulvir had come to stand near them while they were laughing, Amrik on his shoulders and Harpal in the arms of a stout, very pretty woman beside him. She was dressed in a pair of slacks and a pink dress shirt, with a black turban tied high on her head and two gleaming earrings poking out from underneath it.

“The model-boy who crashed his bike? Of course I remember him, it took him three weeks to replace our front step.” The man said while smiling fondly.

“He is a nice boy though, very hard working. It is a shame what happened to his father.” The woman added before turning to regard Harry. “Who is this?”

“Mum, this is Harry Potter, he’s new to Ginuliad and this was his first time at the gurdwara for prayer. Harry, this is my mum, Amita. She supervises and runs the entire langar with my granddad.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Harry said politely, shifting his hold on Vohra when she started to slip and feeling as if he should be shaking her hand at the least.

“Oh, let me take her, dear. Just pass her over.” Gingerly Harry did so, the little girl not even waking as she changed hands. “It is nice to meet you as well, I hope you enjoyed the worship. Will you be coming back?”

“I... think I will.” Harry said hesitantly. “If Nihal really doesn’t mind acting as a translator, that is.”

“You don’t speak Punjabi? Oh you simply _must_ come to our classes!” Amita exclaimed enthusiastically. “We teach it right along with Gurmukhi, and also have several seminars for those your age on the scope of the Guru Granth Sahib and the pros and cons of taking the Amrit Sanchar-“

“Let the boy breathe, Amita.” Kulvir laughed.

“I don’t mind, Harry. We come every Friday at least, so feel free.” Nihal said amiably, patting Harry on the shoulder when he started looking overwhelmed. “Mum, you can give him the class schedule when you next see him, yeah? It’s getting late and even Amrik is looking tired.” The boy perched on Kulvir’s shoulders gave a yawn for emphasis and Amita gave in, loudly saying goodbye to Harry before they left and telling him he should volunteer with them if he ever had free time.

A few minutes later the Bhudrajas had gone around the corner, and Harry was left standing alone on the sidewalk, feeling warmth bubble in his chest –but not for the first time wishing that instead of being taken in by other families, he could be doing this with his own parents instead.

Vvv

The next day Harry woke up uncharacteristically late and lay awake in his bed for over an hour, listening to the bustle of the district outside his open window and savouring the lingering chill in the air –he had always preferred winter to summer. When he finally got himself up and about, he spent a long time eating his breakfast and going over the letter he had received from Neville late last night, and then took care of his laundry while he swept the balcony of any dead leaves that had started to accumulate.

After that was out of the way, he grabbed his wallet and set off to the second hand shop where Tanner worked, determined to buy a couple of sweaters and maybe a winter coat before it started to get too cold outside for his thin long sleeved shirts. He ended up buying a pair of boots as well, and returned to the apartment just as the sun’s last rays were reflecting off of the Yamato building windows opposite the courtyard. He took the last load of laundry out of the dryer and put all of it away along with his new clothes, washed the few dishes he had accumulated over the past couple of days before setting them out to dry, and then when the clock told him it was getting close to eight thirty he shrugged on one of his new sweaters and once again left the apartment.

Truthfully, Harry was lonely. Though this new home of his was just as interesting as Hogwarts had been, and in fact he enjoyed the freedom it offered more than he let on, nothing here could quite replace how he felt when he was with his friends from the wizarding world. Hermione and the Weasleys were more a family to him than the Dursley’s had ever been –they were the only family he had ever known, really. He wouldn’t have called Privet Drive his home to save his life, and while he loved Hogwarts, last year had seriously damaged his opinion of the school as a whole, after the majority of the students had alternately vilified and apologized to him. He loved Ginuliad, but didn’t connect with its people in the same way.

He was lonely –you couldn’t blame him for latching onto any scrap of human contact presented to him.

“Harry! You actually showed up!”

But of course, Harry could blame himself all he wanted.

“Eh, I sure did.” Muneharu jogged over from the other side of the street, looking as if he’d just recently come out of another fight due to the bandages peeking out from underneath his collar, though he had a wide grin painted across his face which dimmed the effect of his black eye significantly. “So, where are you taking me?”

Amusement tingeing his smile, the older teen made a sweeping gesture with his arm and winced subtly before aborting the action. “I know the owners of a place a few streets over that way. They’ve got good food and are open later then a lot of other restaurants –you alright with that?”

“Sure, I’m not picky.” Harry said, hoping he wouldn’t regret saying that later.

“Then come on.” Muneharu started walking down the sidewalk, past the alley they had met by the week before and over to a neighbourhood Harry had only walked through in passing before now. “You said you lived in Surrey before coming here?”

“Yeah...” Harry coughed awkwardly, surprised that Muneharu remembered the brief mention. “I was living with my aunt and uncle, and my cousin. They moved me here so I could be closer to –my school tutor.”

“Tutor, huh? You look like you’re in year nine at the most, is it a specialized program?” Muneharu asked curiously, spinning around to look at Harry every couple of steps; the thirteen year old wondered how he didn’t trip over his own feet. “I’ve just started with year eleven, myself.”

“You could say that... uhm, if you’re in year eleven that means you’re around sixteen. Are you going to keep attending once you’re done?” Dudley had gotten it into his head recently that he wouldn’t go back to school once he turned sixteen, but Harry had a bit more of a realistic look at it and knew that it was more difficult for those who didn’t return to get a job. Muneharu shrugged and then made an abrupt right hand turn down a little side street Harry had barely noticed; he moved swiftly, making Harry nearly jog to keep up, up until they reached the other side and appeared on a street Harry was more familiar with.

“Not sure yet, to be honest. I know a couple guys who’ll take me on if I want to go full time –I’m training to be a mechanic –but it’s not as if I’m struggling to get by in class. I’ll figure it out by the summer.” Slowing to a stop, Muneharu pointed to the opposite corner of the intersection, where a brightly lit ‘Castella’s Diner’ could be seen –a little empty, but not looking like it was closing any time soon.

“You know Mr. Kuniyoshi?” Harry blurted without thinking, and Muneharu studied him with an unreadable expression.

“Yeah, though not as well as I’d like to. How do _you_ know him?”

“I met him on the day I moved in, and again on Bonfire Night. He told me I should meet his son, who he said was around my age?” Harry wondered why Muneharu was so interested in him and yet also seemed so suspicious of everything he had to say; did it have something to do with that ‘Double Heads Dragon’ he had asked about when they had first met? “Uh, the light’s green.”

“Right, right. Well, looks like we won’t have to wait for a table at least.” Then as quickly as the suspicion surfaced it was gone, throwing Harry for a bit of a loop as he once again had to jog to keep up with Muneharu’s longer stride.

The inside of the diner was exactly what Harry had seen when he had passed it before, if a bit smaller than it looked from the outside. There was a long counter lined with stools, standalone tables in the middle of the room, a couple of booths along the walls, and everything was painted various shades of beige and purple –which wasn’t a colour scheme Harry saw very often, but it didn’t look too bad. There were a few older men in suits sitting at the counter, one or two couples that looked to be on a date, and a few teenagers around Muneharu’s age sitting in a booth that waved in their direction but didn’t move otherwise. Muneharu led Harry over to one of the booths on the opposite side of the restaurant to the other teenagers, and they had barely sat down when a middle aged woman bustled out of the back room and headed towards them.

“Muneharu, it’s nice to see you after all this time!” She said in a teasing tone, making the other boy blush bashfully. The woman was about a head and a half taller than Harry, who had extremely long, dark brown hair braided down her back and was wearing a pair of red rectangular glasses. Her arms were completely covered by tattoos consisting mainly of flowers and birds, and she was dressed in a bright red dress and a black apron.

“Sorry, Argine. Douglas has been putting me through the ringer lately. I’ll definitely tell him you disapprove.” Argine laughed cheerfully and Muneharu caught Harry’s eye and grinned.

“Yes, yes, send him here and I’ll deal with him. Now, who might this be?” She focused on Harry then, and the wizard straightened in his seat under her gaze.

“Harry Potter, ma’am.” He said politely, making the woman smile.

“Argine Kuniyoshi, it’s nice to meet you. Now, what can I get you two for drinks?” Suddenly there were menus before them –Harry glanced over the list of beverages swiftly before requesting a coffee, with Muneharu deciding on a regular tea. Argine made her way to the back of the counter so she could get their orders out of the way, and then there was silence as they looked through the menus for what they were going to eat.

“Argine,” Harry started once he’d settled on his choice. “Is she married to Mr. Kuniyoshi?”

“That’s right. I’ve sort of known them for years ‘cause Argine’s sister Marisela used to babysit me when I was a brat. Their son Youji is actually the same age as me, though I never got to know him until we were introduced by my senior a few weeks ago.”

 The conversation paused as Argine reappeared with their drinks and they told her what they wanted. “Maybe I should let Mr. Kuniyoshi know that I’m not the same age as his son...”

“Nah, don’t bother.” Muneharu said casually. “Ken’s not one to really remember his own suggestions, just like Youji, so he’s probably forgotten all about it already.” A silent beat to sip his tea. “Okay, I’m just going to get this out of the way since it’s been eating at me all week –why did you help me out back then? Not that I don’t appreciate it, but you don’t seem like the type to normally do that.”

“Hah, well, I’ve actually been told that I have a ‘saving people thing’?” Harry shrugged and tried not to notice the burning of his fingers when he spilled his coffee over the side of the cup in his nervousness. “I wouldn’t say it happens every week, but I get into trouble often enough that the nurse at school doesn’t even flinch when I show up anymore.”

“Oh-ho, I smell some stories behind this.” Muneharu said, grinning like a Cheshire cat and leaning his chin on his less injured arm. “C’mon, tell me something! I’m interested now!”

 _You were interested in me from the moment I said I was new here,_ Harry thought derisively, scrambling for a scenario that he could easily tweak so magic wouldn’t come up. “Uh –well, at my old school, last year... there was someone going around beating up kids who had foreign parents, or something. We knew this guy in our year was pretty xenophobic, and me ‘n him _never_ got along very well, so me and my best mate snuck into the rival common room and tried to hear whether or not he was the one doing it. It turns out we were a little misguided –later on we heard that Ron’s sister and Hermione had been hurt pretty badly and... er –we found out who it was and I nearly killed the guy who did it.” Which, granted, was kind of true, as the diary wasn’t _really_ Voldemort at all. “But he was years older than me so I almost didn’t win –here, this is what the nurse had to deal with...”

Harry pulled up the sleeve on his right arm and showed Muneharu the scar that had been left over from the Basilisk’s fang piercing through his forearm. After a summer and change of getting used to it, he no longer felt self conscious about it like he did with his forehead scar –but that might have been because he could at least hide this one easier and no one actively tried to ogle at it. The skin where the puncture had been was slightly dented and pale, products of the rapidly grown new skin that Fawkes had given him, but the skin around it wasn’t so lucky. Basilisk venom wasn’t the deadliest in the world for nothing; about an inch of the skin surrounding the puncture wounds was mottled purple and pink instead of brown, and there were dark veins shooting up and down the inside of his forearm to his wrist and elbow (Madam Pomfrey had said they would always be like that, as the venom was magical).

“Holy shit, what the hell did the bastard _do?_ ” Muneharu asked, incredulous. Harry shrugged and tugged his sleeve back down.

“I don’t actually remember. I was running off of adrenaline at the time.” Harry took a sip of his coffee again while the older boy nodded solemnly.

“Yeah, I get that. Still, holy shit. _I’m_ glad _you’re not a member of the Dragons..._ ” Muneharu mumbled that last bit into his cup, but Harry caught it anyway and snorted.

“What even is that? ‘Double Heads Dragon’ or whatever you were talking about last week?” Muneharu gave him a brief considering look, but didn’t answer until Argine brought their food over a minute later and he had taken a bite or two.

“They’re a group from over in Havering. I know a couple of the guys from EMOD, and-” Muneharu stopped abruptly at the look Harry was giving him. “Right, you’re new. Well, in Barking n’ Dagenham and Havering, there are a lot of gangs running around. Couple small time famiglias, one or two branches from the triad, and a _lot_ of biker gangs and punks. Ginuliad has the Evil Moth of Death –it’s about twenty guys, almost all of ‘em born and raised here in the district. It isn’t the only one in Ginuliad, of course, but it’s less power hungry than others –most of EMOD’s guys just like to fight and have fun –so everyone tolerates them around here, and I’m on good terms with a few of their officers –er, officers are full time members. Lately the Double-Heads Dragon, a group of about eighty based in Havering, have been starting shit and trying to move past the border of the districts. Got all that? Good. I brought it up last week because those guys we took out were some of their lower members.”

“And they were after you... ‘cause you know some members of this EMOD?” Harry asked slowly, and Muneharu nodded in response while he dug into his pasta again. “ _Why?_ Would beating you up have helped their efforts or something?”

“Hell if I know.” Muneharu shrugged. “I mean, the guys I know well aren’t even that important in the grand scheme of things, no offense to them. I’ve only met Dominic and Nadia _once_ , they’re the boss and vice, and it was just to be introduced, and even though I know Wally wants me to join up it’s not like I’ve decided one way or the other at _all._ ”

Harry stared at his half eaten sandwich intently, processing the new information and trying to figure out what way he wanted this conversation to go. Muneharu simply steamrolled past his sluggish thoughts by swinging their talk abruptly back around to an earlier topic.

“Oi, you said you met Ken when you moved into Edenton, right? How’s that place been treating you?”

Harry’s brain stopped –it seemed to be doing that a lot lately, whenever a chat went in a direction he hadn’t anticipated –and so it took him a minute to dredge up an appropriate answer. “Oh, it’s great, I’m really enjoying living there. A bit different from what I’m used to... I lived in Little Whinging before, have you ever been there?” Muneharu made an affirmative sound. “Well then you’ll probably know that it’s about as far from Ginuliad as can be. But as long as I don’t have to live with _them_ for the year, I’ll take anything.”

“Your neighbours aren’t bothering you? I know there are a lot of guys from Red Sabor who’re renting those rooms, and while they’re generally less rowdy than other groups ‘cause Corrina’s a hard ass –she’s their boss, so you know –they do have a tendency to throw drinking parties that can get out of control.” Muneharu laughed a bit. “I was pulled into one about six months ago and ended up crashing my bike into someone’s front porch –took me ages to pay them back.”

“No, there hasn’t been any trouble, really.” Harry was determinedly not going to mention just yet that he knew the Bhudrajas, who he was sure were the owners of said porch. “They might not live in the same building I do, though, so I can’t _really_ say. All of my neighbours have been great –do you know Hanan Lutz? –she helped me repair the sliding doors in my place a few weeks ago and now Rafid invites me over to sit with them for a natter every few days.” Even before Muneharu spoke Harry started grinning, because he could just _tell-_

“How has she been? I haven’t seen her in ages –she was actually my first babysitter and was the one to get me into mechanics... jeez, that must have been about eleven years ago now. I forgot that’s where she lived.” Harry laughed then, suddenly wondering when he had started to actually enjoy the meal with the odd older teen.

“How do you know so many _people_? I feel like –haha, like anyone I could bring up would just make you say something like they’re your cousin or whatever!” It wasn’t really that funny, but Harry couldn’t smother his chuckling no matter how hard he tried, and after a minute he had to put down his cup so he wouldn’t slosh any of the now lukewarm beverage down his shirt. “Let me guess, you-you know Tanner D’Angelo from Laporte’s Second-Hand, too? And Nihal Singh Bhudraja?”

Muneharu was giving him that Cheshire cat grin again, hands folded and chin perched on his intertwined fingers, nonchalantly watching him. “Yeah, actually. Tanner’s a mate of mine, been that way since we were in diapers. Nihal I don’t know as well, but I tutored him some back when I went to his school. I wasn’t lying when I said I know everyone in this district. I was born here, and everyone who was born here was raised by the entire district –in turn we take care of everyone who moves here, whether that be taking them under wing or taking them _out_.”

Harry and Muneharu were both still smiling slightly, but there was a tinge of tense acknowledgement to it this time –that Muneharu had told him something important and Harry had understood. Harry felt an odd weight in his chest, and wondered idly just what he was about to get himself into this year.

They didn’t end up staying for much longer, as Muneharu had to get into work early the next day and Harry wanted to run a few errands before Mr. Kopinak’s visit around lunchtime tomorrow. They walked together a short ways away from the restaurant, mostly talking about inane things that crossed their minds before they reached the spot that Muneharu knew was halfway between their respective abodes. Before they went their separate ways though, the older teen told Harry that he’d had a good time and would be up to doing it again, that is, if he was willing?

Harry thought about it for only a split second. “I’m paying next week. Swing by Edenton at around... same time?”

“I’ll even bring flowers for you, my dear.” Against his will Harry felt his cheeks burn, and before he could even attempt to stop himself he had flipped off the snickering mechanic and spun around, utterly abashed for no good reason at the joking tease.

Still, he smiled a bit at the call of ‘see you later’ that followed after him, incredibly glad that he might have made another friend.


	8. Serious Discussions

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

Three days after Harry had gone out with Muneharu and only an hour after he had completed his homework for the week, an enormous Horned Owl swooped in through the open window and landed on his coffee table, bearing a thin scroll with the Gringott’s crest embossed into a seal of wax. Harry stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment or two, and then disregarded his late lunch in order to swiftly retrieve it off of the imposing owl’s leg before directing it to Hedwig’s cage in case it needed a drink or some food. He was almost afraid to open it, not sure what he would find, but in the end his burning need to _know_ won out over his nerves and he tore the seal in one quick motion.

The first thing that drew his eye was his name at the top of the parchment, written in a scratchy yet still somehow elegant script. The rest of the letter was read over in short order, and by the end he was left both confused and slightly frustrated at what had been written.

The Goblin that had penned him, Silvermark, had explicitly said that this issue wasn’t one to be discussed on parchment and had made him an appointment to sort it out later on that same day, so that was appreciated. But the Goblin hadn’t given him _any_ idea as to what the issue actually was, and had instead given him a few things he needed to bring to the meeting –one of which was the Family Line scroll itself. So while Harry was grateful that it would be taken care of soon (whatever it was) he was also miffed at the fact that he had waited so anxiously only to be put off _again._

But that wasn’t really so important –after a few deep breaths Harry was calm enough to realize that if he wanted to get to Diagon Alley with time to spare, he may as well start getting ready to leave right now –he had some things to collect from his still cluttered trunk now, after all. Keeping his backpack nearby, he rummaged through the loose paper and nicknacks with a practiced air, occasionally extracting a lone document or forgotten envelope but not coming across what he needed until he reached the bottom of the trunk. He carefully placed his wallet (containing his Gringott’s key), the Family Line scroll and the copy of the signed Ministry waiver (which confirmed he was under Mr. Kopinak’s tutelage) into the pack along with his wand and his invisibility cloak. Once that was ready, he clipped on his sunglasses and tied his bandana, and then spent a few minutes refilling Hedwig’s water dish and tidying up the table before he started pulling on his shoes.

Walking through Ginuliad didn’t take him as long as it normally did; he knew a lot of people in the immediate vicinity of Edenton now that he had been there a couple of months, and always got held up with stopping to talk or help someone out. With it being a Tuesday afternoon he should have taken a long time to get through the district, but it was also the first really chilly day of the year –the only person he had seen was the same boy who had cussed him out over a cigarette, who appeared to recognize Harry as well as he flipped the wizard off as he made his way out of the courtyard.

So it only took Harry about twenty minutes to trek down past the not-so-abandoned factory and summon the Knight Bus to take him over to Diagon Alley. He arrived a tad before he meant to, but alerted one of the clerks to his presence even so, and was prepared to sit waiting for at least a while when a familiar face appeared to usher him into the back rooms of the bank.

“Please follow me, Mr. Potter. Silvermark can see you early.” Griphook said, easy for Harry to identify from his left ear, which still had three silver coins hanging from it through a piercing. The Goblin ushered him through a set of big oak doors and into a dimly lit stone hallway –it was silent for all of a minute before Harry pushed himself to speak.

“Ha-ave you been doing well, these past few years? You might not-not remember, but you took me down to my vault the first time I ever came to Gringotts.” Harry’s face burned against his will when Griphook directed an unreadable look his direction and he realized that it might be a bit odd to remember something like that.

“...I have indeed been doing well, Mr. Potter. I do remember taking you to your vault, though I was unaware that it was your first time visiting. And you?” Griphook replied a tad brusquely, though that may have just been how he spoke.

“Uh, yes, I’ve been good –great, actually. I’m glad you have been, too.” The Goblin nodded at Harry’s answer, slowing down to stop in front of a single door made of what looked to be iron. Griphook pushed the door open halfway and stuck his head inside for a few seconds before stepping back and away from the entrance.

“Head on in, Mr. Potter. Good day.” Griphook said.

“Yeah, have a good day.” Harry stuck his hand out and after a moment’s consideration Griphook grasped the limb at the wrist and gave it one good shake before nodding again and setting off down the hall, back towards the main chamber. Harry took a deep breath and steeled his nerves before turning to the iron door and making his way into the room beyond it.

There were two Goblins sitting at the table in the middle of the room, neither looking remotely similar to the other. One was extremely old and wearing some sort of head wrap made of red fabric that flattened one of his ears to the side of his head but left the other free. He was also wearing spectacles, a tunic, and had a thick wooden cane leaning against his chair. The other was younger and dressed in a muggle business suit with two silver feathers adorning each of his ears, and he had several thick silver rings on his hands. They both watched Harry silently as he closed the door behind him and took the lone chair opposite them at the table. A beat of silence passed before the Goblin in the suit cleared his throat and spoke.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter, my name is Silvermark, this is Ochrestone. Thank you for coming on such short notice. Have you brought with you the items that I requested of you?” Harry nodded, grateful for the Goblin’s no nonsense tone. He picked his backpack up off of the floor, slipped his clip-ons into it so as not to be rude, and then drew out the items he had brought along; the Family Line scroll, the Ministry waiver and his Gringotts key. Silvermark summoned the key and waiver to him and inspected them swiftly, nodding at the other Goblin as he set them down.

“Hand me the Line scroll, if you would.” Ochrestone said in a gravelly voice, holding out his hand for Harry to pass it to him. He looked over the roll of parchment carefully for a few minutes, not making a sound, and then handed it back to Harry easily. “It is in working order.” He stated, sweeping his hand at Harry. “Please state your name so we may see your family.”

Harry still didn’t know what was going on, but presumably the Goblins did; unfurling the parchment again, Harry said his full name and watched as the ink spread smoothly up and down the length of it, stopping at the same generations as they had before. He pushed it over to the Goblins without hesitation and waited anxiously as they examined it with neutral expressions.

“Well, it seems something went wrong.” Ochrestone said bluntly, rolling up the scroll with care and again handing it back to Harry. “Young wizard, you wrote to us to ask about your parent’s wishes for guardianship and cited this scroll as having pushed you to ask. It is right that you did so.”

“Really? W-Why?” Harry asked, unnerved at the serious tone the conversation had suddenly undertaken.

“Sirius Black III was your godfather not by religious vow, but by Gringotts officiation. Had anything happened to James and Lily Potter, he would have been the first choice as a guardian for you.” Silvermark explained patiently. “Had he done you or yours any harm –such as betraying your parents as it is believed –his godparent status would have magically revoked itself and barred him from any sort of guardianship. But Line scrolls like these are enchanted by Gringotts, and keep track of everything pertaining to relations, including godparent status.”

“So what you’re saying, is that Sirius Black never harmed me or my parents.” Harry concluded, feeling the bottom of his stomach fall out when his mind drifted back to the lesson on Azkaban prison Mr. Kopinak had covered a month ago. “Wh-I don’t understand. Didn’t he have a trial? They used to use Veritaserum and Pensieves back then when it came to...”

“Apparently not.” Silvermark said, also handing Harry his key and waiver back. “What would you like to do about it, Mr. Potter?”

Harry sputtered. “ _Me_?”

“He is a member of your family, formerly incarcerated or not.” Ochrestone said firmly. “And the both of you are the sole heirs to families that have been loyal and valuable vault-holders at Gringotts for the better part of five centuries. Should you wish for something to be done about this situation, which is partly the fault of Gringotts as we seem to have not checked our records on this matter in twelve years, then I’m positive something could be arranged.”

Harry digested what he had just been told. On the one hand, he was only _thirteen_ ; did he really want to involve himself in the legal bananza that he was sure this would turn into? On the other, Ochrestone had a point; Sirius was one of his last family members, and for better or for worse if he hadn’t been given a fair trial then it was almost his unequivocal duty to make sure he did.

“Wait –what about, uh... Cygnus Black II’s children? They’re his cousins, shouldn’t they get a say?”

Ochrestone and Silvermark shared an unreadable look. “No.” Silvermark said at length. “Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black not only married into another family, but is currently in Azkaban herself on charges of Death Eater activity. Andromeda Tonks was cast out of the Blacks years ago, and Narcissa Malfoy nee Black married into the Malfoys, who have their own rules on this sort of affair.”

“Alright...” Harry took a calming breath and thought it over. “Right now he’s on the run. He knows that he didn’t do anything, or should, but he thinks everyone’s out to get him. Actually, he’s probably suffering mentally from being in Azkaban for so long. Is there any way to... I dunno, use magic to find him and get him back to normal so he can have a real trial?”

“...I know of something, but it may not be viable any longer.” Ochrestone said. “It is a spell we used before there were Aurors, to bring those who had defaulted on loans or dodged taxes directly into Gringotts. Technically Mr. Black _has_ dodged his taxes, or we could word it as such, but it hasn’t been used since I was a child...”

“Could you at least look into it, please? If there are any expenses, I’ll... I’ll cover them.” Harry asked, determined now that he knew he was indeed the only one left. The three of them spent a few minutes more going over the contract that Harry would enter into in order to accomplish anything if the spell still worked, and then hashed out exactly what would happen to Sirius in the long run. As Ochrestone had said, with Harry and Sirius being who they were Gringotts was more inclined than not to keep their assets in-house; or more appropriately, uncontested.

So if the spell worked, Sirius would be vetted by Gringotts with the standard Veritaserum and Pensieve, and if he was guilty they would turn him in. But if he was innocent, then they would endeavour to get him to a mind-healer so he was able to properly stand trial at the Ministry, at which point he would be cleared and be able to re-enter society. If the spell didn’t work, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

On his way back to Ginuliad, he noticed that the entire meeting hadn’t even taken an hour, though it felt to him as if he had been stuck in that room all day. When he caught the Knight Bus outside of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry allowed himself to dwell on what might happen if his godfather really was innocent –what it might mean for him, in particular.


	9. Blooming Blood

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

Harry hadn’t allowed his worries on the Sirius situation to affect him when he began his lessons the following day, nor did he let it get to him when he went back to Sri Guru Singh on Friday evening and met up again with the Bhudrajas. He was slightly distracted during the service by Vohra, who seemed to have taken a bit of a liking to him in the way that four year olds do, but otherwise enjoyed Nihal’s running translation just as much as the previous week. At the end of the night he felt a sense of déjà vu as he hoisted a snoozing Vohra up off the floor and into a piggy-back, following Nihal and Kulvir out into the street to wait for Amita to finish inside. While they waited, Harry expounded to Nihal how the meeting with Muneharu had gone and Nihal had told him a bit more about how the groups in Ginuliad worked, especially the EMOD.

They hadn’t had much time to get into it though, for a few minutes after Nihal had brought it up Amita came out of the front doors and bustled cheerfully over to Harry to give him a few of their informative pamphlets on classes and the like. “And we’d love to have you help out in the langar at any time, Harry!” She stressed then. “Another pair of hands is always appreciated! But consider the classes too and let me know whenever you think of it.”

“Okay.” Harry had agreed, clutching the pamphlets and left smiling from the woman’s earnest sincerity.

Poring over those papers had kept him busy for most of Saturday, since he hadn’t needed to do laundry or even respond to more than Ron and Hermione’s letters. Unfortunately it had kept him a little _too_ busy –as when the time he was supposed to be picked up by Muneharu came around, he was still scribbling away on a spare piece of parchment. When he finally looked up at the alarm clock he realized that he was ten minutes late and completely abandoned everything he had just been occupied with so he could throw on a sweater, his coat and shoes and then-

“Woah!” “Augh!” The two teens said in unison as Harry opened his front door and collided with Muneharu on his way through it. Before they could fall Harry grabbed the door frame and Muneharu’s left foot moved back to steady himself, so that they were left wide eyed and staring at each other in surprise.

“Didn’t realize what time it was?” Muneharu asked completely nonchalantly, taking a step back so that Harry could recover himself.

“Er –yeah, sorry, I got caught up in something. How did you know what room I was in?” Harry asked, smoothing his coat out and locking the door behind him. “Didn’t I only tell you the building?”

“I asked Johan. He worked with my Mum at IroCo. a couple years ago.” So the landlord was to blame for this, Harry thought.

“Okay then. So where do you suggest we go this time?” Harry asked, walking down the hall towards the stairs so that Muneharu had no choice but to follow.

“You up for Mexican? I’ve been wanting some all day and I know a great place a few streets from here.” Muneharu answered with a hopeful note in his voice, digging for something in his pocket. Harry searched his memory and vaguely remembered passing a Mexican restaurant several times on his nightly traipses, though he couldn’t quite manage to grasp the name or exact place.

“Sure, lead the way.” Muneharu moved so that he and Harry were side by side and made a flourishing motion with something in his hand as they exited the Court and turned onto the sidewalk.

“Whatever you wish.” He declared, showing Harry what he had been holding –it was a sepia coloured iron-on patch of a couple of Trilliums in various stages of bloom. Muneharu laughed at his expense as Harry blushed like a tomato, pressing the patch into his hands and grinning that infuriating grin of his. “Didn’t I say I’d bring you flowers? I couldn’t find any lilies, unfortunately.” He tapped at the part of Harry’s head that was covered by the bandana and Harry batted his hand away with a hiss.

“It’ll be my prized possession.” Harry said with no small amount of sarcasm, pocketing the thing even so. Muneharu laughed and kept striding along as easygoing as could be –Harry wondered how he wasn’t shivering in just a long sleeved shirt and denims when it was nearly snowing.

“Ah, here it is!” Muneharu said suddenly, turning at the last second to the right so that Harry nearly ran into him again. Harry inspected the facade of the business and it clicked in his memory; Arturo’s Eatery had always sort of struck him as being a little rundown when he saw it in passing, and he’d never been inclined to try it out. But if Muneharu said it was ‘great’ then it would probably be a good place to try this kind of food for the first time.

 The inside was brightly lit and consisted entirely of tiny booths, with a bright and varied colour scheme and narrow aisles between the tables and seats. Muneharu dragged Harry expertly through the small spaces and sat them down a few feet to the left of the door to the kitchen, at a table which had a picture of a cactus painted on it in neon green. There weren’t many others in the restaurant, so they didn’t have to wait very long before a waiter meandered over with the menus for them to look over.

“I already know what I’m getting.” Muneharu said after the old man had gone to fill their drink orders. He leaned back in his seat and started to roll up the sleeves on his shirt when he saw that Harry had shucked off his coat already. “You got anything in mind?”

Harry looked over the menu quickly, and paused at a simple dish that caught his eye. “...Arroz Con Pollo looks good?”

“That’s what I normally get, good choice. If you’re up for it I’d recommend getting it with the shrimp.” Muneharu advised. “I’m going to get the Milanesa if the price is fine with you.”

“Yeah, it’s alright.” They quieted as the man came back carrying Harry’s tea and Muneharu’s soda, and a short silence followed his departure as Harry made up the tea to how he liked it.

“So, what were you so caught up in before?” Muneharu asked. “I figured it was something like that, but for a few minutes you wounded my manly pride. I thought you’d rejected me.”

“Will you _stop?_ ”Harry snorted. “You’re the one who said ‘you’re-a-little-young-for-me’. And I was seeing if I had any time during the week to go to classes at Sri Guru Singh, maybe even volunteer.”

“That’s a nice place, I’ve gotta say. Have you been attending since you got here?” Muneharu asked, disregarding Harry’s other comments and sounding interested; Harry shook his head and sipped at his tea.

“Last week was the first time I’d gone there, mostly ‘cause your dinner invite was bugging me.” Muneharu grinned but didn’t interrupt his train of thought. “I was also pretty frustrated ‘cause I was waiting on a response about my –my godfather and they were taking a while. I think better after eating traditional cooking; so I ended up going back yesterday too.”

“They get back to you since?”

“...yeah, but now I’ve got to wait even longer for them to look into some other things. It’s just a frustrating situation and I’ve been trying not to think about it too much.” Harry fidgeted with the napkin as the waiter came back around with their orders and paused to ask Muneharu something; he tried to decide then how much to reveal to Muneharu about the issue.

Talking with the older boy was a bit of a different experience than what he was used to with any other person in his life right now. Unlike literally everyone he met in the wizarding part of Britain, Muneharu lacked the preconceptions about him that the title of Boy-Who-Lived made so common in his other interactions. Even then, Muneharu hadn’t known him for very long in and of itself, so he also didn’t know him as ‘that ne’er-do-well Potter boy like Privet Drive did –and he was older than him, but was still close enough in age to be able to relate to his more ‘normal’ problems. So Harry had a bit of a conundrum –he could either confide in Muneharu certain things that he couldn’t to anyone else, or he could stay in the comfortable place of anonymity that he had going for him right now.

“You feeling alright?” Muneharu asked, brows creased and his plate left untouched. Harry jolted as he remembered the meal that had been placed in front of him while he was stewing and reddened.

“Sorry, sorry, just thinking.” He assured, picking up his fork and knife to dig in. The portion size was bigger than he was used to having and so rich that from the first bite Harry knew that he wouldn’t be able to finish and would be taking it home to keep for the future.

“Man, I haven’t had anything from here in a while.” Muneharu said after he’d made his way through a third of his chicken. “How’s yours? Pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah, I haven’t had anything like this before. It’s pretty simple but there’s so many spices, and I like the tomatoes.” Harry praised, his inner cook making a bit of an appearance. “I want to try making something like this now. We always had really, well, _British_ meals in Privet Drive so I’ve been trying to branch out now that I’m living away.”

“Save some for me when you do.” Muneharu grinned behind his cup and Harry promised that he would, thinking back to the section of cookbooks over at Laporte’s. As the conversation moved on from the meal to things like schoolwork and the classes he was thinking about, Harry decided not to bring up his frustrations again. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have other things he could do to keep his mind off of it, and he really didn’t know Muneharu well enough yet to feel comfortable talking to him about such a new worry.

An hour later Harry had paid the bill and tipped the waiter, and Muneharu insisted upon walking him back to the entrance to Edenton –though whether that was out of friendly concern or the teasing flirting, Harry couldn’t tell. Regardless, they decided that they would meet up again in a week’s time and would flip the bill once more; afterwards Harry made it up to his room in record time and managed to slip the iron-on onto the desk before falling into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

Vvv

 The weeks leading up to the Christmas holidays were some of the most enjoyable and most frustrating of Harry’s life.

His tutored classes –difficult and time consuming as they were –went well for the most part, with Mr. Kopinak adjusting the course load more carefully now that they were nearing the end of the first term and had his examinations to think about. He continued to have weekly chats with Rafid and Mrs. Lutz even as the weather turned bitter cold, eventually moving inside to have tea with them at their rickety kitchen table. He had fewer letters to deal with nowadays; Ron and Hermione still wrote, but besides them the only people he regularly corresponded with from Hogwarts were Neville and occasionally Professor McGonagall.

He also still went out in the evenings to explore Ginulaid –as some businesses were seasonal and he wasn’t about to let a few feet of snow stop him from getting out of the house. It was nice as well, because now that he knew more people in the neighbourhood he would sometimes stop to talk with a person and get roped into helping them out, and they would give him small things in return; some loose leaf tea, the odd tupperware with a meal inside and once, a cactus that was now sitting on the counter near the stove so it would get the heat it liked.

He tried out more recipes from the cookbooks he had picked up at the second hand shop with general success, freezing the leftovers or giving them to Clara (the single mother living next door) if it wasn’t something that could be frozen. He started attending classes and volunteering at Sri Guru Singh –he went to the language class on Sunday mornings and would go early on Fridays to help in the kitchen and then attend the service sitting with the Bhudrajas. He and Nihal were getting to be friendlier as each week went by, even if Harry didn’t have as easy of a time talking with him as he did with Muneharu.

And while Harry and Muneharu continued to do their weekly Saturday dinners (alternating on who paid the bill and choosing a different restaurant each time) the older teen had also started to randomly drop by whenever Harry was on a lunch break during the day. Harry didn’t know how he managed to time it so well, but without fail at least once a week he would be at the stove or just sitting down at the table and there would come a knock at the door, and Muneharu would be there with a lunch of his own. Where at the dinners Muneharu usually wanted to hear about Harry’s week, the lunches quickly turned into Muneharu’s turn to natter, and by the second time it happened Harry was starting to learn more about auto-mechanics than he ever thought he’d need.

He was also slowly building a collection of flower iron-ons –as Muneharu delighted in continuing to make fun of him –and no matter how much it made Harry bluster he couldn’t bring himself to throw them away.

What was utterly irritating to Harry over those several weeks wasn’t anything like that, but rather two things. First there was the wait for an update from Gringotts about the spell that might capture Sirius Black; that was a near constant itch in the back of his mind and besides a note on their general progress at the beginning of December, he hadn’t heard anything at all from them. But that he could tolerate, as he’d at least grown somewhat used to the feeling of impatience when it came to the delay.

What he was truly having difficulty coping with was the letter that he had received from Professor McGonagall the day before the end of term, responding to his request to be able to return to Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays. He had just come back from a morning class at Sri Guru Singh that Amita had recommended he try out, when a severe looking, familiar Barn Owl had hopped in through the window and presented him with the scroll. The teacher had been sympathetic and saw no problem with his coming back herself, but had imparted the verdict from the headmaster; that for ‘security reasons’ he was to stay where he was as that was where he would remain the safest. It offered no explanation as to _why_ he needed to stay safe (though Harry already knew why), nor did it elaborate on what ‘security’ the headmaster was talking about –no, why keep him informed at all about an issue they all thought affected him so?

Harry had lost some feeling at this; he was grateful for the fact that his midterms were over and done with, because he wouldn’t have been able to adequately concentrate in such a state. He wished that he felt anger at the refusal, but really he couldn’t muster up more than a resigned sort of annoyance –it was just another wizard doing what so many others had already done.

He really should’ve learnt his lesson when it came to people ‘knowing what was best’.

And this was what Muneharu walked into when he showed up an hour early to pick him up that night. Harry hadn’t even needed to say anything upon opening the door –Muneharu had taken one look at his red eyes and shivering fists and immediately looked concerned.

“Hey, what’s the matter? Did something happen?” He asked, slipping into the apartment and closing the door behind him. Harry shrugged and averted his eyes, feeling tired and fed up with generally... everything; but eventually he broke under Muneharu’s concerned stare.

“Just... m’not allowed to go back to see anyone. From school, I mean. It’s –fine. It’s fine.” He mumbled half-heartedly. Muneharu tried to look him in the eye but ended up leaning away when he couldn’t quite catch his gaze; a few seconds of silence passed before he spoke in the same tone he had used when he had been suspicious of Harry that first dinner.

“Throw your coat on.” He said simply, and a beat later Harry moved without thought to follow the instruction. He didn’t bother picking up any of the mess he had made since the letter had reached him, just silently slid his feet into his trainers and pulled the denim jacket on over his sweater. When he stepped out into the hall, he managed to catch the last part of whatever Muneharu was saying into his cell phone.

“-lright, just make sure no one’s there. Thanks, I owe you.” Harry took a moment to lock the door and then turned to look at the other teen just as Muneharu pocketed the clunky device again. “Okay, try to keep up.”

The next ten minutes were spent walking in silence, Muneharu keeping a quick and steady pace through the streets and short cuts he was taking to who-knows-where and Harry following behind him, the evening sun and cool air doing little to relieve his numbness. Near the end of their trek they started walking through neighbourhoods that Harry was unfamiliar with and eventually ended up in another factory district –with a jolt Harry realized that they had somehow come out on the other side of the A13 to where he normally caught the Knight Bus.

Muneharu stopped for a moment to listen for something, and then crossed the road and went into one of the factory yards, Harry close to his heels and starting to feel a bit nervous. But the older teen seemed to know what he was doing, as when they reached the nearest entrance he jiggled one of the bricks loose from the wall and used the key behind it to unlock the door. He flicked the light on and walked in –Harry did as well and looked around briefly as the door closed.

The ceiling was high and crisscrossed with metal beams, but someone had laid down some planks and hitched up a ladder so that there was a makeshift platform up there. The room itself was about the size of half the Great Hall, with mats covering a quarter of it off in the far corner and the rest being something of a cross between an auto repair shop and a bar. Harry followed Muneharu over and onto the mats without really paying much attention to what the other was doing, so it was a great surprise when he heard a whoosh of air and only barely managed to dodge a straight punch aimed at his nose.

“ _Woah_ –wha-?!” As Muneharu threw another punch, Harry backpedalled quickly and went for his wand; then he remembered that ever since Bonfire Night he hadn’t taken to bringing it with him when he went out. So Harry held up his hands to try and ward off whatever had made his friend try to assault him. “Mune- what’s going on?! Muneharu?”

“You’re repressing _something,_ I know it.” Muneharu said in explanation, taking the opportunity to shed his long coat so that he was left in his t-shirt and jeans. “C’mon, throw a punch at me! You’ll feel better, trust me! You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, or you can.” Harry ducked to the side to avoid a right hook and then raised his forearm to block the left; the sheer force of the hit made his teeth clack together. “But just take this opportunity to let everything out! Whatever that was back there? It’s _not fine! You’re_ notfine!”

Harry threw off his jacket while he still could, and a moment later Muneharu was upon him again, this time swinging at his chest with his right leg. It took all of his Quidditch skills to block it from colliding, and even then he was thrown away a few feet and onto his back.

Muneharu didn’t let him rest –as soon as Harry had recovered from the fall Muneharu was there, boot ready to come crashing down onto his skull. Harry rolled to the side and kicked out blindly, catching Muneharu’s shin with his heel and making him back off enough so Harry could stand up again. When Harry fell into a fighting stance instead of moving away, Muneharu grinned in triumph and charged him, fist finally finding purchase on Harry’s right temple. But Harry shifted his footing instinctually to stop himself from falling over again, and instead of flinching to the side he used the momentum of the shift to ram his shoulder into Muneharu’s chest. The older teen fell onto his back and now was the one who had to roll away fast as Harry tried an odd move where he would fall so his knee came down into Muneharu’s stomach.

“ _Yeah!_ That’s what I’m talking about!” Muneharu called, rolling up onto one knee and swinging up at Harry’s face when he came too close. Harry found himself growing annoyed at the smug tone to Muneharu’s holler, and used his higher position to duck around Muneharu’s arm so he could ram his knee into the other’s thigh. Harry only grew more irritated when Muneharu’s leg stayed strong and the older teen stood fluidly, coming at him with fists flying fast. “Whatever it is that made you that way, I’m it! I’m that thing right now, so come at me and try and take me down, Harry!” One of Muneharu’s punches grazed Harry’s cheek, and he felt something inside of him twist darkly at Muneharu’s next words. “What, are you _scared_?”

“Shut _up_ already!” Harry snarled, twisting into the crook of Muneharu’s elbow so that they were face to face for the briefest of seconds before his knee came around again and thrust into the elder’s side. “I wish everyone would all just shut up about me and mind their own _bloody_ _business_!” Muneharu wheezed and elbowed Harry in the stomach in retaliation, but Harry had been hit harder by practice bludgers and was able to shrug it off and sink a fist into Muneharu’s jaw. “They’re all morons and I’m tired of everyone knowing ‘what’s best’ for me! They don’t know _anything!_ ”

Harry received a square punch to the nose and it immediately began to gush blood, but his adrenaline was pumping and so he barely noticed the hot flood of wetness over his lips. His bandana came off with Muneharu’s second punch to his temple, but his glasses managed to hold on until Harry got it in his head to _use his head_ to hit Muneharu’s chin from his shorter position.

“’Oh, it’s _not safe_ to go back, Harry!’ I can’t go back to the only home I’ve ever had for blasted ‘security reasons’?!” The head butt had seemed like a good idea, but within a second Muneharu had seized him by his upper arms and reared back to deliver his own. Harry pulled away as hard as he could and stood on one of the other’s feet, throwing him just enough off balance so that his forehead slammed instead into Harry’s collarbone. Harry swept a foot underneath Muneharu’s wobbling legs and managed to topple him –this time when Harry went down, he angled his elbow so that it hit the other in the shoulder and so that his full weight held him to the mats. “Why don’t they _tell_ me anything?!” He shouted as Muneharu tugged at his grip furiously. “Is it ‘cause I left Privet Drive?! What, did they expect me to just _stay_ when my uncle looked like he was going to _finally_ bury me in the backyard?! I hate it! I feel like a stupid kid when they do that! I –I just –errrrgh!” Harry nearly had Muneharu beaten, but the elder wiggled one hand free and had used it to push Harry’s chin forcefully up and backwards, which made the rest of him follow in short order.

Harry tried to squirm out from underneath the taller boy, but Muneharu had weight on his side and effectively pinned Harry down after a minute of struggling, the wizard’s anger finally fizzling out the longer he stayed trapped. Breath coming out in harsh pants, both of them beet red and sweating –Muneharu started grinning after a few seconds and let his head fall so that his forehead rested heavily on Harry’s chest.

“You crazy son of a bitch! That was the _best_ fight I’ve had in _months._ ” He said, chuckling breathlessly, shoulders trembling. “Come over to my house for Christmas.”

“ _Huh?!_ ” Harry asked incredulously, flush slowly, slowly receding from his skin as he too started grinning. “You start a brawl with me, make me scream about my feelings to you and then ask me _that_?!”

“Hey, that was all you after your first fall.” Muneharu replied smugly. “That’s how I learnt how to get rid of my pent up anger. You told me back then that you beat that bastard who was way older than you, so I figured you could at _least_ hold your own against me.” Harry scoffed lightly and tugged experimentally at his wrists, but Muneharu wasn’t letting go just yet. “...feel better?”

“...” Harry swallowed thickly. “...yeah. I –I’ll come for Christmas.”

Muneharu didn’t push for anything further, but did adjust his position so that Harry now had free arms. “Then, here. Instead of going to supper, let’s get all of these onto that jacket of yours.” Muneharu had reached into his pocket and drew out another iron-on –and when Harry took it he found that this time it was, in fact, a Lily, blood red and set next to an image of a moth.

“Okay.” He said hoarsely, letting the other help him up and over to a high stool as his adrenaline started ebbing away rapidly. Muneharu located a first aid kit within minutes and spent several more expertly cleaning him up, apologizing sheepishly for the bloody nose and then going back to retrieve their coats and Harry’s bandana from the mats. Harry wanted to return the favour and help him with his own sores, but Muneharu said that it would be easier to just do it himself, so Harry waited on one of the other stools, wincing occasionally and clutching both the bandana and the patch close.

Before they left the warehouse –some twenty minutes after they had first entered –Muneharu retrieved a clothes iron from one of the many large tool boxes so that they could do up Harry’s jacket as soon as they returned to his place. The trip back to the apartment seemed to be marginally faster to Harry now, and even with his aching nose and the surely developing bruises on most of his body he felt that everything he had been so out of sorts over was... easier. Easier to accept that he still couldn’t see his friends, that those such as the headmaster were still prone to blunder as they had in years before. Easier to stay here, where he had somewhere to go to on Christmas, where there was someone who would let him be angry and not try to –to calm him down through mere platitudes.

Upon shaking their shoes of snow and hanging their coats above the little space heater he’d bought for the winter, Harry brought out the twenty-something other iron-ons Muneharu had given him previously and left him to arrange them on the floor how he liked. Harry himself rooted around in his freezer for the last of his vegetables, and in the fridge for the potatoes he’d peeled and sliced the day before along with half a meat loaf that only needed to be warmed through. He set the kettle to boil, turned the oven on and placed the loaf inside, and then brought out two pans; one to to sauté the greens in with a bit of salt and pepper and the other to fry the potatoes up until they were golden brown.

By the time the kettle whistled, Muneharu had come in to lean on the counter and he was relegated to making up the tea (still using those absurd china teacups, though nowadays Harry had both milk _and_ sugar in his cupboards). Harry spent a final few minutes tidying up before they each grabbed a plate and took however much they wanted from the stove; they moved back into the other room soon after and sat eating contentedly next to the table. When they had finished and Harry was looking curiously over to the two lines of rather well meshing patterns resting on the floor, Muneharu grabbed the denim jacket off of the hanger and brought it over, clearing off the table so there was enough room to affix the patches to the fabric. Once he had plugged in the iron and left it to heat up, that was when he picked up the Lily-patch and started positioning it on the right breast of the coat.

“My brother’s actually the one who makes these.” He said conversationally, jerking his head at the two rows of patches. “They’re meant for curtains really, that’s why they have those little stems on each end to connect them together. But I asked him to make four of them into end bits and this special one into a lone piece, ‘cause honestly your jacket’s just too _boring._ ”

“So it’s been your plan all along to bedeck me in flowers?” Harry asked amusedly; Muneharu laughed.

“Nah, I didn’t get the idea until the fourth or fifth restaurant. But your bandana’s already flowery, so I figured you wouldn’t mind.” Keeping one hand pressed firmly onto the patch, Muneharu reached over to grab the iron and swiftly pressed it down onto the stitching. “Glad to see all that time I took to do this for Ikuto is paying off now.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Three.” Muneharu removed the iron and set it aside. A minute later he tapped on the fabric and deemed it sufficiently cool, so he shifted the jacket enough that the right arm laid flat at the shoulder and he could start on the other iron-ons, which Harry now realized were meant to go from his shoulder seam to his wrist in one connected column. “Ikuto’s twenty seven, off living in Islington as an interior designer. Sakuya’s twenty four and married a fisherman set up in Southend-on-Sea, and Hiroe is twenty one and going to college to be a pilot for commercial airliners.” There was a pregnant pause, and Muneharu took a deep breath.

“...Harry, that stuff you unloaded back there? It seemed pretty heavy.” Muneharu said, casually keeping his eyes on his work as Harry started to fidget. “If you ever need someone to talk to, just call me up alright? Seeing you quiet like that made me worry; you’re all fire and scraped knuckles, you shouldn’t be like –like a statue, or anything so bland.”

“O-Oh...” Harry mumbled. Then, “The reason I’m here with a tutor... is ‘cause I ran away from Privet Drive. It was my second strike and it was either stay there and let my uncle throttle me, or leave and get expelled, so I chose the latter. But, they didn’t expel me.” He rubbed his arms awkwardly, trying to find a way to explain it all without breaking the Statute. “They all think I’m safer here, away from the school and my godfather, who is apparently out to kill me. And that’s all fine, but could they at least tell me outright what I need to be kept ‘safe’ from? If I hadn’t already been told offhand right after Fudge found me, I’d still be in the dark. Yet they have the –the _nerve_ to keep on with ‘what’s best’ for me?”

“...So, that’s why I was like that.” Harry finished lamely.

“I see.” Muneharu’s expression maintained its previous concentration for the ironing, but there was something about the set of his shoulders that made Harry think he had more to say on the subject. “Want to come by for New Year’s too? Friend of mine’s throwing a bash.”

“If –if it’s really alright, sure.”

“Great. As for Christmas, it’s day of, dinner’s at seven so I’ll pick you up half an hour before. If you want to cook something we never have enough vegetable dishes, ‘specially during the winter.” Muneharu sat the iron back on the floor and held up the jacket so that Harry could see the one completed arm. “How’s it look?”

Harry pulled the sleeve closer; each patch was a different flower, but the colours were washed out and turned sepia from whatever Muneharu’s brother had used as material, and the only other colour was the red Lily on the front breast, since even the moth was sepia toned. It wasn’t something he would have chosen for himself, but he liked it well enough –more for the thought put into it than any attraction to the design.

“It’s brilliant.” He praised, letting the sleeve fall back. “No one can say it’s boring now, that’s for sure.”


	10. The Security of Affection

**A Lesson Learnt Too Well**

by: Yidkirkin of the Warhammer

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

                Christmas day that year was on a Saturday, exactly one week after Muneharu had pushed Harry into fighting him at the not-so-abandoned factory, and dinner at the older boy’s home would be later in the evening. Throughout the days leading up to it, Harry had received a slew of letters from Ron and Hermione, both frustrated that he couldn’t see them but busy with their own affairs (like the trial that Hagrid’s Hippogriff was being subjected to). Neville had written him as well, and in his typical nervous way had told him that he was going to be in London for a few days after New Years, and asked whether Harry would like to meet up for a bit in Diagon; an offer which Harry had accepted readily.

Then Harry had gone into Diagon Alley halfway through the week to buy presents for his friends, and while there had come upon a small shop that sold interesting gifts specifically for muggle relatives (both in the know and not). Now having the task of picking up something for Muneharu and his family, Harry ended up spending some amount of time in there talking with the owner, and had indeed bought two things for the Maekawas after a long but enjoyable deliberation; a small gift for Muneharu and a larger one for his family as a whole. He chose a gift for the Dursleys as well; they could neglect him every Christmas and birthday for the rest of his life for all he cared, but they _were_ the ones who had put him up in London, and for that at least he felt a twinge of gratitude.

 The rest of the week had been fairly boring, with Muneharu unavailable due to a pile up of jobs at his work and most of the shops around closing earlier than they had the week prior. Harry didn’t even have any lessons again until the third of January –which, he wasn’t going to complain about of course, but he knew that without the stimulus he’d have a harder time getting back into the swing of it later.

So with that said, it was unsurprising that he used his free time to keep up with the classes at Sri Guru Singh, as well as volunteer in the kitchens on a more regular basis. They had apparently been glad for the help –Christmastime was always busier for them as more people showed up for a meal, though of course that was also due to the cold weather. Regardless of the extra bustle, Harry was happy to be there and doing something, and when he wasn’t at the gurdwara for the langar he was usually with Nihal; who had taken to quizzing Harry on the class content whenever they had a moment to sit together.

Vvv

Saturday started early for Harry –not by choice of course, but because at five in the morning he was jolted out of his sleep by the tapping of talons on his closed window. He pulled off the covers reluctantly; wanting to stay in the warm cocoon he had made himself, but logically knew that if he didn’t get up right away then the bird would either be put off when he finally did, or worse, leave his package in the snow on the balcony. Taking a brief moment to stretch his limbs out and prod at the many slowly healing bruises that were visible on his forearms, Harry plodded over and opened the pane –and was surprised when not one, but four different owls hopped into the room.

Harry motioned for them all to wait a moment and went to the kitchen to get a couple of bowls filled with water for them to drink out of. Once he’d placed them on the bookshelf he began untying the packages from the bird’s legs, starting with poor Errol and finishing with what he now recognized as being Mr. Kopinak’s bird. He tiredly waited while the owls drank their fill, and once three of them had picked up again and left (Errol had settled down to sleep) he closed the window, stroked Hedwig’s feathers a bit and then fell back onto his bed with a thud –falling asleep within minutes.

Vvv

When Harry woke again a few hours later, this time of his own accord, he was momentarily confused at the sight of several wrapped packages near the base of his book shelf, and it took a few seconds for him to remember letting the post in that morning. Sitting up, he reached for his glasses and checked the time to make sure –and he did still have enough time before he was supposed to leave to both reply to whoever had sent the gifts and make a dish for the Maekawa’s Christmas dinner.

“Happy Christmas, Hedwig.” He murmured to the sleepy bird; she gave him a soft hoot in reply, which made him smile. Errol awoke briefly and preened happily under Harry’s gentle attention before he settled back down and tucked his head up under his wing.

“Let’s see who sent me something.” Harry said to himself, stretching languidly as he reached down to pick the parcels up off of the hardwood. There were four packages –one thin one with Mr. Kopinak’s distinctive purple ink on the front, one that from the last two years Harry knew to be from Mrs. Weasley, one large one wrapped in brown paper that could have been from anyone, and another that had been wrapped in a newspaper and tied together with twine. Harry chose to open that one first, and inside was a very well maintained penknife with a small note attached, saying how it would open any lock that it went into, but offering no sender.

Curious, Harry tried it out immediately on his front door, locking it from the outside and then inserting the odd piece on one end into the keyhole; a moment later there came the familiar clunk of his door unlatching, and when he turned the knob it did indeed swing open as if it hadn’t been locked in the first place. Harry placed it into the basket alongside his keys, and made a vague note to look into sewing a pocket on the inside of his jacket to store them in more securely.

The thin present from Mr. Kopinak turned out to be a little brown address and calendar book, made so that it would respond to a certain erasing charm in the calendar portion once you used up all the available pages. Harry was even able to input dates and set them to stay where they were even when the charm was used –now he could put birthdays and the like down and be sure he would have them when he needed to remember them. Harry spent a couple of minutes writing a thank you letter for his tutor, hoping that the man would like his own gift of a deep purple scarf and matching gloves.

The parcel sent from Mrs. Weasley was indeed a Weasley Jumper, this year a bright golden orange with a green ‘H’ on the front, similar to the one he had received (and still owned) in his first year. It sent a wave of affection coursing through him that the matronly woman would still think to send him something even with him being away from Hogwarts, and without delay he stripped off his tank top and threw the sweater on –it was a little long in the sleeves, but as opposed to when he would receive Dudley’s hand-me-down’s he knew that Mrs. Weasley had knitted it like that so he could get more wear out of it.

Finally the large parcel turned out to be a combined three gifts, something each from Ron, Hermione and Hagrid. Ron had sent him a case of sweets from Honeydukes in Hogsmeade as well as a recipe from the same shop, for the treacle tarts Harry had liked the past two years at the school. Hermione had sent him a book on muggle recreational activities (cycling, skiing, hockey) and another on the history of the Sikh community in the United Kingdom (since Harry had mentioned going to Sri Guru Singh). Hagrid gave him a pair of mustard yellow and white wool socks that he had probably knit himself –Harry pulled them on as well and soon enough felt his ever cold toes begin to thaw slightly.

Harry wrote four more thank you letters, one to each of them –at the same time asking Ron, Hermione and Hagrid if they liked their own gifts of Quidditch gloves, a leather wallet and a muggle bulk cookbook respectively. He debated writing a note to the Dursley’s to ask what they thought about the vase he sent them (that would enhance the life of any flowers it held), but in the end decided that leaving them none the wiser of the vase’s sender was probably a better idea. Once he had sent Hedwig out with those and had tied the letter to Mrs. Weasley onto Errol’s leg he checked the time, and decided then that he might as well get going on the food preparation now so he would have an easier time of it later.

Harry had decided to try out two different dishes for the dinner –one was a Consommé Madrilène, which he would set to simmer now and chill into a jellied soup so it would be easier for everyone to eat with the rest of their supper. The other dish was Brussel Sprouts with Walnuts; Harry knew that they weren’t exactly a popular vegetable by any means, but Mrs. Lutz had showed him this recipe to use up those sprouts that often went on sale at the supermarket and it had changed Harry’s mind about the greens immediately.

Once the Sprouts were blanched and in the fridge, and the Consommé was on the stove with its raft slowly forming, Harry gingerly picked up the wrapped present sitting in the closet and stepped out into the hallway. He balanced the package on one arm and knocked on the door to the Lutz’s apartment –and as it was nearing two in the afternoon it took no time at all for Rafid to open the door and welcome him into the entrance, taking the offered gift cheerfully and then going on to introduce Harry to Mrs. Lutz’s long talked about but seldom seen partner, Gilda.

Mrs. Lutz waved him over to the kitchen table and then jerked a thumb behind her to draw Harry’s attention to the two cases of Spezi sitting in the corner of the kitchen, on top of which Gilda immediately placed what looked to be several tin foil wrapped pies with his name scrawled on the topmost one.

“...Happy Christmas.” She eventually settled on saying, giving him a firm pat on the arm and smiling at him for the first time since he had met her.

“Oh, Harry, this is beautiful!” Rafid exclaimed, having opened the gift at the kitchen counter. Gilda made a noise of approval at the tea set Rafid held up to the light –Harry could never tell them, but the set had come from the little shop in Diagon Alley. It was crafted with subtle runes that made it keep drinks either hot or cold longer, adjusting the content so that the liquid it held would always contain whatever nutrients the person drinking it needed at that moment. There were even a few vials of potions included with little labels on them; when Gilda inquired about what they were, Harry fibbed and told the elderly woman that they were tonics for illnesses that could be added to any tea and not disrupt the flavour.

Harry went back to his own apartment to check on his soup a few hours later, not returning for some time as the straining process for Consommé was long and tedious. But once it was cooling in the fridge he could afford to go back over, and upon Gilda’s insistence he even brought his Brussel Sprouts with him so he could cook them there instead of making another trip later on.

It was nearly six o’clock by the time Harry left the Lutz’s; Spezi, pies and Sprouts in tow with Gilda’s help to carry them. The woman was even stronger than Mrs. Lutz was, and Gilda told him that she had been a professional body builder in her mid-thirties and it had never completely left her even after so many years retired. Inwardly Harry resolved to stay on the woman’s good side, and bade her goodnight when his gifts and food had been safely placed in the kitchen for his own perusal later on.

He moved the Spezi to the fridge (he had picked up a bad habit after so many months of drinking the stuff) and put the pies in the freezer. His soup and sprouts he transferred to his good travelling containers and then put back in the refrigerator, and upon tidying the kitchen up to the way he liked it he went to grab the two presents he was taking with him from the closet. These he placed on the counter so he wouldn’t forget them, and upon making sure that _everything_ was ready and there was _nothing_ he could have possibly forgotten, he approached his closet to change into the good clothes he had picked out for this very occasion.

It wasn’t anything fancy of course, having been bought second hand, but it was nicer than trying to play off his uniform shirt as something he wanted to wear outside of school and was miles better than any of Dudley’s long since disposed of hand me downs. Just a pair of dark jeans that _fit_ , a long sleeved black shirt underneath an army green button up, with the sleeves rolled up and put with a pair of black, scuffed up oxfords. He thought he looked nice –far nicer than he usually looked, if he was going to be honest with himself –and though it was out of his comfort zone he couldn’t help but feel good about dressing himself well for once.

It was just as he was tying up his laces that there came a loud knock at the door, followed by the cheerful voice of Muneharu calling out that he was coming in. Harry grabbed his jacket and pulled his arms through the sleeves as his friend padded into the room, looking just as effortlessly composed as ever even with the still visible bruises from their drag out fight. Harry felt a twinge of guilt but tamped it down gently before it could really get anywhere, remembering that Muneharu had told him not to worry about the entire ordeal, as _he_ had been the one to instigate it and was therefore the only one to blame.

“Somebody cleans up nice.” Muneharu said with a toothy grin, waiting patiently as Harry moved around him to grab the two bags of food and presents. Harry grinned despite himself, wincing slightly as the action pulled at his bruised cheek.

“Thanks. How far of a walk is it again?” Muneharu’s eyes were focused on Harry’s jacket sleeves, but he was quick to answer even with his slight distraction.

“Only ten minutes, with short cuts. Some of the snow melted off so we’ll have an easier time than otherwise.”

Muneharu followed Harry out of his apartment and down to the courtyard, but once there he was the one to take the lead, walking leisurely and chattering away as they usually did while they were out walking. The air of the early evening was cold and thin, dry as the desert since it hadn’t snowed in several days, but there wasn’t any wind to deter them from their journey and so it wasn’t as unpleasant of a walk as London could sometimes put forth. Harry found himself thinking about that (it felt so long ago now) Bonfire Night, where he had traversed these same streets filled with merriment and wariness, returning to an empty home full of his friend’s worries of Sirius Black and his own loneliness.

Now, only a month and a half afterwards, he was walking again, cold in the December chill but with his chest cavity overflowing with that soft sort of happy warmth one feels around the holidays. The one where you know that the place you’re heading to has only good memories to be made in it, where the night air only makes the puffs of breath you let out all the more mesmerizing, and there are things weighing down your mind but tonight –tonight you can put them aside and wait to worry about them tomorrow.

Harry liked this feeling –no, Harry had been _aching_ for this feeling –for how long he couldn’t say. Had it begun after Dumbledore had forbidden him from returning to Hogwarts? Maybe the day after Bonfire Night? Could it have been that meeting with Minister Fudge, cementing his school year, which had made him want this?

“Harry?”

No, Harry thought as he reassured Muneharu that he was alright; it had probably been that last real day of ignorance in his life, where he hadn’t known of his parent’s true fates and the only thing that he had been concerned with were whether or not he should repay Hagrid for giving him Hedwig so generously. He felt like he hadn’t had a single true day of peacefulness since then, and the thought made him relish in Muneharu’s fond smile as the two of them crossed the threshold of his family’s small house, finally arrived while Harry had been stewing.

“Muneharu! You’re early!” Called a reedy voice from just ahead of them, making Harry fully jump out of his reverie and take in the old man sitting on the front steps. He was very muscular and balding, with small spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose and a white cane held loosely in the hand that wasn’t pinching a cigarette. He was wearing a thick, slightly worn out brown sweater and beige khakis, and abandoned the smoking stick as Muneharu and Harry approached, enveloping the older boy in an enthusiastic hug.

“Your mother told me when you were supposed to be back.” The man said in explanation, squinting down at Harry once he and Muneharu had separated. “Who might this be?”

“Ah, Grandpa, this is Harry Potter, an... underclassman of mine, you could say. Harry, this is Hiroto Maekawa, my grandfather.”

Harry immediately shook the old man’s hand, feeling a little nervous at Maekawa Senior’s blank, yet somehow still scrutinising gaze but soon relaxing at the amiable smile that he offered a minute later.

“Forgive me if I have trouble recognizing you, Harry. My vision has taken a turn for the worst as of late.” Maekawa Senior patted his white cane for emphasis and Harry nodded quickly, at the same time making sure to voice that he understood.

“C’mon, Harry. We should get inside and get all the hellos over and done with.” Muneharu said, murmuring something to his grandfather in what Harry had recently started recognizing as Japanese (Muneharu’s second language) and then moving up the steps and to the front door.

Stepping into the narrow front hallway was such a change of environment that Harry was frozen in surprise for several seconds before he managed to recover his equilibrium. It was dim and yet brightly lit with yellows and golds from the aged glass bulbs hanging in the ceiling lights, and the walls were made of wood panelling halfway up from the floor and were painted a deep maroon to the ceiling. There were shoes _everywhere_ , and the coat rack on the wall was overflowing, and the rickety wooden staircase directly to their left was dark but laden with bags and umbrellas of all sorts (likely a deterrent so that no one was inclined to go upstairs). It was almost suffocatingly warm and didn’t improve much until Harry shed his coat and shoes to join the precarious piles around him –Muneharu just laughed at his lost expression and led him by the elbow further into the house.

There was a television on in the empty living room, playing some animated Christmas special that Harry didn’t recognize, with the volume down to a low drone. They passed by it in order to reach the kitchen, which must have been the preferred gathering place for the house because as soon as they stepped into the doorway there was a general interest thrown in their direction before a cacophony of voices called out greetings and questions.

A stout woman –muscular in the same way that Mr. Maekawa was but with a charming pudge to her edges and incredibly similar looking to Muneharu –came out of the chattering group, a beer glass in one hand that didn’t stay with her for very long as she saw Harry and Muneharu and gasped out loud. She set the glass down fluidly and then immediately swept Harry into a crushing hug, disregarding his stiff form as she grinned widely down at the top of his head.

“You’ve finally brought him around!” She exclaimed with laughter in her voice, moving Harry to stand away from her and holding him by his shoulders to inspect him from head to toe. “Why, I’ve seen you before with the Bhudraja’s eldest! I’d recognize that bandana anywhere!”

“Mum, give him a bit of space.” Muneharu laughed. “Yes, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my Mum, Airi Maekawa.”

“Very nice to meet a friend of my little Muu-chan!” Mrs. Maekawa said cheerily, and Harry turned back just in time to see Muneharu turn a bright, flushed red at the nickname. “Make yourself at home and let me know if there’s anything at all you need, you’re a guest here after all. Muneharu, your brother’s brought his fiancé around, so go say hello to them at some point.”

“Sure.” Muneharu said, and left the pair briefly to go and do so after Harry assured him that he didn’t mind. Harry took the opportunity to bring Mrs. Maekawa’s attention to the packages he had brought along with him and ask what he should do with them.

“Oh, how thoughtful! I’ll take the gifts over to the tree to open later, and if you want you can put the food either on the table right away or in the fridge for when everyone gets dinner in a few minutes.” Harry nodded quickly and handed the boisterous woman the bag with Muneharu’s and the Maekawa family’s gifts inside, and then took his soup and sprouts into the kitchen to try and find a place for them in the overstuffed refrigerator.

The next half hour was spent being introduced to the other twenty something people crowding around in the average sized kitchen. Harry met all three of Muneharu’s siblings, his sister’s husband Dimekritos and the second son’s fiancé Paul, as well as being briefly shown the little shrine picture of Muneharu’s deceased father, Ryuusuke Oda. Then there were the aunts and uncles numbering five, and three of those with spouses –also the six collected cousins who ran in age from the baby Ziva to the ten year old Travis. On top of those were two distant family members from Maekawa Senior’s side of the family, and three close family friends that Muneharu said may as well have been family all the same.

Harry’s head spun at all the names but no one begrudged him his slip ups, and by the time dinner was put out on the table he was at least feeling marginally less nervous about having met so many people in such a short amount of time. Muneharu was a great help of course, sticking close to him most of the time and interjecting things into conversations if he felt that Harry needed his help. The meal, of course, didn’t stay in the kitchen –everyone grabbed what they wanted (some eyeing the jellied consommé dubiously) and then dispersed either into the living room or onto the backyard porch if they happened to be a smoker.

And there was also no formal end to the meal; some people, mostly the kids, were done quickly and began scampering around to play, pulling Muneharu and Harry along with them once the pair was finished eating as well. The older family members took longer, and many of the younger adults got up for seconds after a leisurely first course, so that when Mrs. Maekawa finally called for everyone to squeeze into the living room there was no one left unfed or lacking.

“Alright everyone, grab your gifts and get back to your seats! We’ll be doing it counter clockwise this year!” She instructed before going to help hand out the gifts closest to her. Most people received two, with there being a few threes in the mix, but Harry was surprised when Mrs. Maekawa called out to him and gave him two small packages wrapped in pretty green paper. He hadn’t expected to get anything at all.

“Okay, Travis, you’re first. Did you get anyone a present?” Mrs. Maekawa asked the ten year old to her right –he nodded and pointed to his little sister Anne. “Okay, Anne, go ahead.”

It went like that for the rest of them, with each person having to indicate who they gave gifts to and those people then opening them up and showing what they had received. Harry was seated to the left of Muneharu in the rough circle everyone had made around the coffee table, and with a bit of a burning face he said that he had given a gift each to Muneharu and Mrs. Maekawa.

“Oh.” “My, how nice!”

Mrs. Maekawa held up the quilt for everyone to see, shaking off what most thought to be a dusting of glitter but what Harry knew to be a subtle charm for goodwill that affected the people who were around the quilt after it was first touched. It was a rich purple with a design of a night sky done in yellow, and the colours were reversed on the other side. The best thing was that there were also runes stitched in that would adjust the temperature to whatever was preferred while it was being used, and would also give off an aura of calm if anyone near it was distressed. Harry grinned bashfully at the thanks that Muneharu’s mother heaped upon him, before turning to see how his friend reacted to his own gift.

Muneharu wasn’t reacting; he was just staring at the wristwatch in his hands with an almost puzzled expression. It looked simple on the surface –it had a black leather wristband and was made of polished copper, and it had four hands (minute, hour, day, year) that were already ticking away. But, as with the other gifts Harry had obtained from that small shop in Diagon, there were runes inside that acted akin to an ‘everlasting charm’, and  were also supposed to speed up healing and evoke good memories ‘one may have forgotten’.

“Huh.” He eventually settled on, and without skipping a beat he pushed up his sleeve and fastened the watch onto his wrist, fiddling with it only a moment and then smiling, satisfied. “Thank you.” He told Harry sincerely, and then looked over to his mother and announced that he had brought a gift for both his grandfather and Harry.

Looking down at the two presents in his lap, Harry only needed to inspect them briefly before he found which one had Muneharu’s familiar sharp handwriting written on the label –he tore into it carefully, not wanting to damage whatever was inside the paper. A box fell onto his knees then, slim and black with a lip at one end so that he could lift the lid to look inside; Harry shot a curious look at Muneharu, but far from revealing what it was, the older boy just looked excited and motioned for him to hurry up.

Inside the lip of the box was a metal rod about five inches long, with a ring attached to one end that held three different keys on it. Harry really didn’t know what it was he was looking at, but before he could ask Muneharu to explain there was a great surge of laughter that drowned him out and the gift opening moved on to whoever was next.

Twenty minutes of alternate merriment and befuddlement passed for Harry, before the unwrapping ended with Mrs. Maekawa indicating that she had bought her children and Harry gifts (she had given him a key ring utility tool), and everyone descended into chatting or moving back into the kitchen for another round of food and drink. Harry hovered awkwardly next to the Christmas tree for a few minutes as he waited to catch Muneharu at the right time, before he was swept abruptly to the side and came face to face with Muneharu’s brother and his fiancé.

“So, you’re the one Mune’s been hanging out with lately?” Hiroe asked, patting Harry on the shoulder and smiling down at him amiably. Paul hovered at the man’s shoulder, face mostly neutral but looking at Harry like he was trying to figure out if he had seen him somewhere before. Harry swallowed and nodded, suddenly tense at the scrutinizing gaze being directed towards him from nearly two feet above his head, a fact that Paul apparently noticed, as he huffed and elbowed Hiroe in the ribs.

“Ahh, sorry, sorry! I just wanted to see how the new batch of Moths was holding up, you know that Paul.” Hiroe said in apology, although to Harry it seemed remarkably similar to the way Fred and George acted when trying to get back into Ginny’s or Mrs. Weasley’s good graces. “I didn’t know they were recruiting this young though –you’re what, fourteen, kid? Want to let me in on why Dom’s so interested in you?”

“Uh –I’m thirteen.” Harry replied dumbly, not having followed the tall man’s train of thought. “I d-don’t know who Dom is?”

“Huh? But I could’ve sworn since Mune joined up –GUH!”

“I can’t leave you alone for one second, can I?” Muneharu said, amused, and Harry couldn’t for the life of him tell if that was directed at him or Hiroe. “Hiro, shut up. Paul, sorry about punching your man.”

Paul shrugged and gave a shadowy smile as he led the dramatically wincing Hiroe away by the shoulders. “Brotherly spats, not my problem.”

Muneharu laughed. “I really like him. Now, I’m sure that you’ve got a... few questions?”

“...Yeah, a couple.”

Vvv

The older teen had led Harry back through the front hallway in the opposite direction to the front door, so that they ended up in a small, cozy sitting room that sat in the far corner of the house. Muneharu plopped down on the couch against the far wall and smacked the cushion to his right a few times –Harry sat down after a beat of silence, and then turned to wait for his friend to start whatever this was.

“I couldn’t get my mind off of that stuff you told me after we fought.” Muneharu admitted, making Harry flinch slightly at the memory. “And I still didn’t have a present for you. I kept turning it over and trying to figure out a way to solve it –I know that’s impossible but it’s a habit of mine –and in the end I came up with that.” He gestured to the keys Harry was still holding in his hand.

“The two square keys are for my place and my work. If you’ve got some godfather after you, or your uncle might come around looking to hurt you, I don’t want you to have nowhere to go. So you can kip at my place or duck into the shop whenever you need to; no ifs, ands, or buts about it.” Harry stared in shock, but Muneharu just kept on talking. “And the third one’s... kind of illegal, but I figure I did tons of shitty stuff at your age so who cares? It’s not done yet, but I’m building a moped as part of my apprenticeship, and when it’s done you can have it.”

“ _What?_ ” Harry asked, incredulous. Then, “When you were _my age_? You’re barely three years older than me!”

“Still a true statement.” Muneharu shot back unrepentantly; but after a minute he sobered and regarded Harry seriously. “I’ve made some major decisions lately, and whether you knew it or not you helped me work most of them out.” He fiddled absentmindedly with his new watch, trying to find the right words to go off of. “I dropped out of school before the hols started, since I’m sixteen now. I’m going to work full time at Burke’s Auto, and I accepted an apprenticeship offer from Douglas a few weeks before that. Wally, my senior from school and an officer in the Evil Moth of Death, asked me one last time right before our fight if I would join up with them as a prospect –I accepted, and along with Youji Kuniyoshi and Tanner D’Angelo I will eventually become an officer in EMOD’s third generation.”

Harry sat quietly, not so much stunned as he was caught off guard by Muneharu’s sudden confession. But he couldn’t think of anything to say in response –didn’t know how he should react to being told something like this from his friend. He was so used to people admitting things as a precursor to something earth shattering happening after; Hagrid telling him about Voldemort, Dumbledore filling him in on the Philosopher’s Stone, learning what being a Parselmouth meant in the Wizarding community at large.

This felt different though –safer, more that Muneharu was _confiding_ in him than anything –and that had never happened to him before. For all the dangerous situations he found himself in at Hogwarts, he wasn’t treated like he could handle it even now; coddling, they coddled him trying to keep him safe when he hadn’t felt the slightest bit secure since before he had faced that Troll back in first year.

Harry, at the core of his being, longed for security more than anything. He wanted to be able to go home and have nothing weighing on his mind, nothing threatening his life, no pressing obligations or people judging him for something he couldn’t even remember. He wanted self confidence –encompassing _everything_ about him, not just the parts that were acceptable to what people thought he should be. Wanted to have people he could rely on, turn to for anything, _trust_ with anything, and then in return he wanted to have people who looked to him not because he had survived Voldemort, but because they knew he was capable enough to handle it.

He knew that he would only stick with something for so long if it was consistently good enough to warrant his energy; that though it was selfish, he wasn’t going to devote his life to a place that had been all he ever needed only at the beginning, before he learnt of it’s true colours. It was small, but he was different to the Harry who had run away from Privet Drive with his school trunk and wand but no plan. He wasn’t the same as the Harry who had bottled up his emotions and would have quietly swallowed the headmaster’s decision had it not been for Muneharu dragging his inner thoughts out into the open by the throat.

He already knew that deep in his heart, if they decided to leave him any longer, he wasn’t going to stand still and wait for them.

Vvv

_Harry,_

_It’s gotten quite cold here in the castle now that all of the students have gone home. I’m always in the library these days with Ron, and we’re still trying to find out a way of helping Hagrid and Buckbeak on our own. I wish you were here to help –you never liked doing homework but you were really perceptive when it came to looking at things from a different angle. I was going to go home for the holidays, but I thought I could get more done by staying here._

_I’m really glad you liked your present, I had a hard time picking out which books to send you and almost didn’t send the second one –but since you can’t play Quidditch in London I thought maybe you could get some use out of Jarold’s Hand Book and I know I personally never dislike reading about my family when I can, so that History text wouldn’t be remiss. I absolutely loved the wallet you sent –I had Professor Babbling look it over since I noticed some runes stitched into the seams –where on earth did you find someone who does such fine work?_

_But there isn’t much to tell beyond that –I’m sad that you can’t come back to visit, but there must be a reason for it? If you’re really frustrated over it you should ask Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore outright._

_Anyway, I hope you have a good rest of the holidays! Don’t you worry, before long this whole business will have blown over, I’m sure the Ministry is close to catching Black._

_From, Hermione_

_~_

_Hey Harry, really liked the Quidditch gloves! Glad you got the Honeyduke’s package alright, the school owl looked a bit miffed at hauling such a big package for us, but we gave it a couple rats so it should be fine! Hermione was a nightmare this year when it came to ordering stuff in –I think it’s all the classes she’s taking starting to weigh her down –so make sure you tell her next year what you want beforehand yeah? Save her some stress._

_Dean and Seamus aren’t here right now, they’re visiting Dean’s family for the hols, and they asked me to tell you to have a good one out in London. I’ve still been hanging around with those two lately, especially when Hermione’s too busy and no one wants to play any chess with me. It’s a right shame you can’t come back, I would’ve asked you to come to the Burrow if I were going to be there._

_Say, what did Hagrid send you? Both me and Hermione got socks. If I had to guess I’d think you got the same, but if you got rock cakes then that’s a bit of a tosser._

_Hoping to see you during Easter break, maybe –_

_Ron_

Vvv

_Ron, Hermione_

_I had wanted to come back, but I guess it just wasn’t in the cards. Whatever Professor Dumbledore decides, that’s sure to be the best option, and he says it’s ‘not safe’ yet. I’m going to ask again before Easter, but somehow I think I shouldn’t be getting my hopes up._

_I did get socks as well from Hagrid –mustard yellow, I’m wearing them as I write this. It’s been really cold here as well lately so I’ve been going down to the shop a lot to buy a few more blankets, and I’ve tried out some recipes for hearty soups that I can keep warm on the stove all day to snack on for something cheap. I found the wallet in a small shop on Diagon I went to back in the summer, I’ll have to bring you there when we see each other again._

_I’m starting my classes with Mr. Kopinak again after New Year’s, probably the same time as you if I’m remembering right. Apparently we’re going to be cutting back on some classes and building on others depending on how my mid-year marks come out, so I’ll definitely be writing to tell you about that. Let Dean and Seamus know that I will try my best._

_I’m just going to relax this New Year’s, for the most part. I have a few tentative plans, but nothing concrete. Let me know if you need any help with the Buckbeak trial._

_Harry_


	11. These Meetings of Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I’m pushing the start of term to the following Monday –in canon it would have started on the third, but now it will start on the tenth.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

                Muneharu had been prepared to take Harry out to EMOD’s New Year’s party weeks ago, especially after he had learned all those things about his friend’s personal life that made his chest burn and a red haze creep into his vision. He had wanted to help Harry get over the shitbirds that were jerking him around, making him hope and then shutting him down without so much as a backwards glance. Muneharu didn’t know the full story of course, but ever since he could remember he had always had a problem with authority figures who acted like their word was law, and the impression he got of the people running Harry’s life made him want to find them and smash their skulls in.

Muneharu hadn’t yet grown into his own, and he knew it well –it was foolish to think that the way he was today would be remotely similar to how he would be even just in six month’s time. But sometimes he saw what it was that others noticed when they looked at him, and sometimes he liked to think he knew what aspects of himself would stay true the longest. His protective feeling over the general populace of Ginuliad, his charisma when it came to meeting strangers, and his fighting prowess to name but a few. His need for someone else to come in and push him into taking action, for another.

He remembered the name of every single person he had ever met after the age of seven, because after his father had passed on, he had felt very acutely in his mind just how transient people truly were. Some he could recall clearer than others; his mother mentioned a classmate who he had tutored once in grade six but he couldn’t tell her anything besides their hair colour, while sometimes he would think of a name at random and suddenly be able to recall exactly how he had met them and what they were like at that time.

Others he knew even better than that, mostly due to the fact that they were the sort he needed in his life, the kind to butt in unrepentantly and alter him, force him to grow –the sort of people who immediately made an impression on him even if they had only known each other for a week.

The point was, with how many people he remembered in some capacity he had grown possessive of those that pushed him to change, those ones he knew well enough to call friends, and that hadn’t changed in the past nine years so it wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. So with how well he was getting to know him, whenever he thought of him or met up with him Muneharu couldn’t stop himself from thinking just the slightest bit that Harry was _his_.

And it wasn’t the sort of thing he’d feel for a lover, not what he might label someone who owed him enough that he practically owned them in return, but then, it wasn’t quite how he had seen his underclassmen in school either. No, he was just protective, he just felt responsible for this kid that had made such a big impact on him in such a short period of time.

He just knew that if any of these people pushing Harry into changing himself for their approval or out of fear even so much as _thought_ about touching _his protégé_ , he wouldn’t hesitate to beat them up so badly they’d be stuck in the hospital for a month. He just knew that it was a completely reasonable feeling, and anyone who knew him would agree.

That being said, now that it was time for him to pick Harry up for the EMOD party, he was having second thoughts. Hiroe’s remarks at Christmas had made him think, and he was planning in the long term now –there was something about his older brother’s insinuation that Dom would want Harry in EMOD without Muneharu’s suggestion that made him hesitant to introduce them. No matter how much he respected Dom’s position and insight, Muneharu certainly didn’t want Harry in EMOD –the younger teen had too much shit going on, and thirteen was a sliver too young, even with Muneharu knowing exactly what Harry was capable of.

Standing in the hallway outside of Harry’s apartment, Muneharu debated on fibbing and saying that the party had been cancelled, why don’t they watch the countdown at his place or something? He could endure the meeting between Harry and EMOD at a later date, long after Harry’s recent disappointments had blown over and after he himself was established in the group a bit better. The more he mulled it over, the more appealing it sounded; they were still trying to work out some issues between them right now, and a party with so many new people (and a gang party no less) would only throw a wrench into the flow of things. Harry didn’t need ties to EMOD in his life right now, he had enough to worry about when it came to his grades, his godfather, his uncle, his health –he didn’t need to be on guard against the Double Heads Dragon on top of all that.

Muneharu was decided –they weren’t going to the party, it was much too risky and not in their best interests. He nodded once to himself and briefly went over what he would say, and then nearly keeled over from surprise when he turned towards the door to find that Harry was grinning widely at him and locking up.

He looked... healthier. His bruises from their fight had faded to a mottled yellow, and he had changed his hair, or rather, used his bandana to wrap it up into more of a turban than the pushed back style he had favoured for as long as Muneharu had known him. He wasn’t so sickly looking, dressed in a brown hoodie underneath his flowery jacket and a pair of dark grey jeans, and actually appeared his age for once with how his face was filling out and the new pair of rectangular glasses perched atop the bridge of his nose. He finished locking his door and faced Muneharu easily; his posture relaxed and hands stuck leisurely in his pockets, one of the most self assured expressions Muneharu had ever seen him give plastered across his face as if he had worn it every day of his life.

“Ready to go, ‘haru?” Harry asked, tilting his head slightly in a way that made something click in Muneharu’s impeccable memory.

“...Yeah, let’s go.”

Muneharu led the way again, though they were going somewhere Harry had already been before –the not-so abandoned warehouse near the border between boroughs. As Harry chattered on amiably about a few traditional recipes he had tried out from a cookbook Nihal had given him, Muneharu let out a few interested hums while letting his turmoil fill him completely with doubt, and then dismissing it all in one fell swoop.

There was no way he could have said any of that shit to Harry – _what had he even been thinking, toying around with lies and ‘best interests’_? That was exactly the sort of fucked up stuff he hated and Harry was being subjected to on the daily, and had the younger teen ever found out about Muneharu’s deception he knew any trust he had accumulated since they had met would go straight down the gutter with the rest of the trash Harry had no use for. Harry was his own person, and it wasn’t up to Muneharu to decide what was ‘risky’ for him or really anything pertaining to his life –Harry was ‘his’ in Muneharu’s mind but otherwise, the only right he had to interfere was that of a friend, maybe a mentor if he stretched it, and even then he could only offer Harry the choice.

“If you come to this party, you’ll be forging definite ties to the Evil Moth of Death and our allies.” Muneharu said nonchalantly. “If you do, you’ll have to deal with EMOD officers recognizing you on the street and keeping an eye on you, Double Heads Dragon members potentially seeing you as a target, and greenhorn policemen stopping you for questioning. If any of the officers or one of the other third generation prospects takes an interest in you, you could be subjected to recruitment attempts when you get a bit older. I invited you but if you want, you can back out now –your connection to me alone won’t bring all of that stuff down on you.”

Harry was still walking beside him, still relaxed; halfway through Muneharu’s warning he had gained a rather thoughtful look and had waited patiently for Muneharu to finish talking so he could respond.

“I’ve already got a crazy guy after me, and he’s over half my age.” He said rather plainly with only the slightest of blushes to his nose and high on his cheeks, though whether the statement was in regards to his godfather or uncle he didn’t clarify. “So having those Double Heads Dragon guys looking for me... doesn’t bother me as much as it might if I were someone else. It’s not like I’m actually going to know anything about you guys, so police aren’t an issue, and I can say no to anyone looking to recruit me, no problem. As for being ‘recognized and having an eye kept on me’, I have more than enough experience with that already, but at least this time I’ll have met them and know you’re one of those people instead of it being complete strangers. I’ll be fine, Muneharu. Y’know, you made me decide some things recently, too.”

“I di-?”

“COMING IN FROM THE LEFT, IT’S-” Harry jumped in surprise.

“-THE ONE AND ONLY TAG TEAM DUO-” Muneharu sighed and motioned for Harry to move back a step.

“-ITAKURA AND MADRINA!!!!” Two blurs suddenly appeared, barrelling towards Muneharu at a break neck speed, and in the blink of an eye Muneharu had been grabbed from either side by the arm and hoisted into the air by a pair of laughing, yelling teenagers about his age.

“Hey there you fuckin’ pretty boy!!” The right one yelled cheerfully, looking like she was exerting no effort whatsoever in keeping Muneharu aloft. Her arms and shoulders were muscular and she was dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a long sleeved black shirt and coat, and a dark grey hijab tucked underneath the collar of her shirt.

“What took ya so long?! We’ve been waiting to ambush ya!” The second teen said just as loudly, shaking Muneharu’s arm and therefore his entire person for good measure. He was taller than the girl but just as broad, wearing army green cargo pants, a grey band tshirt, and a fur lined, dark grey coat; he had a scar on his chin and had braided his blonde mohawk loosely, though it only reached to the base of his neck.

“Hello you two, fine day to see you.” Muneharu said in a strange, robotic sounding voice, changing his face so it was blank and stiff as he swung his legs back and forth like a madman. “Mind letting me down chums? I’m not alone this time and he’s getting weirded out.”

“Eh? You actually brought someone?” The girl asked, letting go of him like she was burned and stepping away faster than Harry could track. The boy was slower to release Muneharu’s arm but was quicker to look around and actually spot Harry standing a few feet away, and the wide grin he gave him made Harry think that being the centre of this teen’s attention might not be a good thing.

“Shit, it’s that kid you’ve been hanging out with lately, huh? The one from Surrey?” He asked rhetorically, obviously confident in his information. He let Muneharu go immediately and stepped nearer to Harry with his hand outstretched and his grin wider still. “Name’s Kazuyuki Itakura, nice to meet ya.” Harry smiled shyly and accepted the offered handshake. “That’s Madrina Amir. We’re 3rd prospects, same as Muneharu.”

“It’s... good to meet you both.” Harry said only a little awkwardly, reaching over to shake Madrina’s hand as well at her cheerful insistence. “I’m Harry Potter, er, Muneharu’s friend.”

“Ah, so you’re who my dad mentioned.” Another voice said from behind Harry –Muneharu’s face brightened and Harry turned around to see a vaguely familiar teen walking up, also dressed in an EMOD marked jacket. He was holding a lit cigarette loosely in his left hand, had a flat, almost squashed nose, and his dark hair was pushed up and out of his face; but for the life of him, Harry couldn’t place where he recognized him from.

“Youji, I didn’t think you’d be here until later.” Muneharu said, and suddenly it clicked in Harry’s mind like a shot. As Youji Kuniyoshi came even closer, Harry could see clearly the resemblance he held to Ken, but also the parts of him that he had inherited from Argine; it made for an interesting combination, and the older teen was incredibly intimidating in his own right, even while not actually trying to be.

“Eh, change of plans. Tanner here yet?” Youji asked, taking one final drag of his cigarette before crushing it under his heel while Muneharu replied that he wasn’t sure who was inside. “He was talking about finally having that fight with you when I went to visit him last.”

“I dunno if I’m emotionally ready for something like that. Warn me when he gets in, kay?” Muneharu said jokingly, and then moved so that he was beside Harry and flung an arm around his shoulders. “I know you haven’t met Harry yet, but he’s great. Don’t you scare him off!”

“Highly unlikely if he’s stuck around you for so long. Let’s head in already or else Jules is going to make me do flying falls again.” Youji brushed past, Itakura and Madrina following him with Muneharu and Harry bringing up the rear.

“He’s the same as always, aloof as a cat.” Muneharu chuckled into Harry’s ear, still leaning on the wizard’s shoulders casually. “Jules’s the one who asked Youji to join, like Wally asked me, but she’s fonder of punishment games than Wally is. Don’t be nervous though –there’s just one other prospect you haven’t met yet and then there’s only about fifteen members showing up. I’ll introduce you to Dom and Nadia first, just to get that over with.”

Harry had to quickly nod to show he was alright with that, because a moment later Muneharu was catching the door before it slammed shut after Madrina and was leading Harry inside the now bustling warehouse.

Harry had never been to a gathering with an atmosphere like this before, and the only other experience he had with it was the college party he had once seen in the farmers’ field near Magnolia Crescent when he was younger. The cavernous room was loud with talk and blaring rock music, and there was a haze of smoke hanging high above their heads from the cigarettes that were popular with the group and the suspiciously slow curls coming from the two sitting up on the makeshift loft. There was a half dismantled motorcycle spread out in the middle of the room that was surrounded by four rowdy individuals all sporting ‘EMOD’ emblazoned denim jackets, two of whom looked to be threatening each other with worryingly large tools. Over in the corner to their right, the work tables had been cleared off and laden instead with some pizza boxes, soda, ashtrays and not too convincingly disguised cases of alcohol. The one tiny television in the room was transmitting the crowd awaiting the countdown at Big Ben, and there was some sort of competition going on around the mats that involved dodging kicks and the like.

Harry felt incredibly out of place, but if he were going to be completely honest with himself then he much preferred this over a night alone at home knowing he was missing it.

“Hoh, there he is.” Muneharu let out quietly, eyes focused entirely on someone standing near the worktable, an eerie intensity to them that Harry had never seen before. Harry turned his head in the direction his friend was leading him and caught sight of who he thought Muneharu might have been referring to.

“Maekawa, I’m glad you could get the time off to come. Douglas made it seem like you would be swamped for a while longer.” With a jolt, Harry realized suddenly that he had seen this man before, on the very first day that he had ever stepped foot into Ginuliad in the first place. He was at least eighteen but probably older, about six inches taller than Muneharu was, and had a closely shaved head and dark skin, with a bright yellow, worn out handkerchief tied around his neck like he used it to cover his face. While his expression was placid and relaxed, he still looked unnecessarily intimidating what with the jagged scar bisecting his right eye, and the unwanted memory of this man glaring at Vernon’s car from the street made Harry straighten up imperceptibly. “You didn’t have to come and greet me right away, you know.”

“It’s only proper, boss.” Muneharu said seriously, like he was insisting, but his head was lowered somewhat and the change about him was jarring to Harry, who was used to his friend’s unshakable confidence and headstrong attitude. “I thought he should meet you first.”

The man regarded Harry for a moment, scrutinizing him in his entirety with piercing brown eyes that Harry would later swear had seen straight into his soul. The nerve-wracking moment ended quickly, much to his relief, but while on the outside Harry shook the man’s offered hand, inwardly he was slowly understanding what it was about this man that made Muneharu act completely different from how he usually did. His friend was suddenly –reserved, solemn, deferring? –whatever it was, Harry felt it too.

“I-I’m Harry Potter. It’s g-ood to meet you.” Harry said a little shakily.

“Yeah, I remember you mentioning you were going to bring someone along. I’m Dominic Herrera, second generation leader of the Moths. If you ever need anything, feel free to come to me.” Dominic told Harry kindly, patting him on the shoulder in a... brotherly way? It reminded Harry a bit of how Fred and George sometimes got when they weren’t planning someone’s eventual embarrassment. “Nadia! Can you come over here for a sec?!”

A tall, fair skinned girl with white blonde hair looked over from across the table, and Harry had to stifle a small gasp of shock when she turned towards them completely and revealed that most of the left side of her face was covered in a mottled red, shiny burn mark that had sealed her left eye completely shut. When she smiled it pulled at the scar tissue around her mouth, and Harry tried not to pay attention to it as much as he could –instead he focused on her remaining blue eye, and the brown leather jacket she wore that had a moth embroidered on the back of it from shoulder to shoulder, and the way she slotted her arm around the slightly shorter Dom’s waist when she arrived on their side of the table.

“This is Maekawa’s friend, Harry Potter.” Dom said, placing his own arm around her shoulders. Nadia leant forward and gave Harry a friendly grin, shaking his hand firmly.

“Nadia Filipov. Second generation vice head. I hope you have a good time while you’re with us.” Harry nodded immediately –she gave off the same vibe as Dom did, but Harry still couldn’t place what it was, though ‘older brotherly’ still might have been an acceptable description. “Maeka, tell Tanner I said no matches until _after_ the countdown, _hm_?”

“Yes, of course!” Muneharu said, sounding relieved. The two shooed them off soon after that, Dom letting Nadia drag him back over into her conversation while Muneharu steered Harry around and then let out a rather breathy sounding laugh once they had moved far enough away.

“I always get anxious talking to them.” He admitted, a shaky smile following the statement.

“Why?” Harry asked curiously –he did feel off about the two, but it wasn’t _anxiety._ Muneharu blinked and his smile turned into a cheeky grin, and before Harry could defend himself he had tightened his arm around Harry’s shoulders and flicked him in the forehead.

“You’ll find out someday. Now I’m sure Wally has been itching to find out who you are, let’s not keep him waiting any longer.” Harry glared half heartedly at his friend but let himself be brought over to the group of four gathered around the dismantled motorbike –their earlier disagreement had been forgotten in the span of time Harry had been distracted.

Over the course of the few hours that the party went on until midnight, Harry was alternately introduced to, interrogated by, and teased mercilessly by most every present member of the Evil Moth of Death, and immediately when the cheer from the end of the countdown passed was pushed into the hands of the remaining prospect he had yet to meet as Muneharu was ambushed by an irate Tanner. While his friend was pulled into a fight that Harry had gathered was some sort of long awaited rematch, the teen who had caught him as he was shoved moved him to the back of the crowd to stand a few feet away with Youji and another boy.

“We haven’t been introduced yet!” The teen exclaimed with a grin, throwing an arm up so that his elbow rested on Harry’s shoulder. He was wearing jeans and a muscle shirt underneath a bright purple sports jacket, and his hair was styled into a crew cut, but otherwise he appeared fairly average. The teen hovering at his elbow was more distinctive, wearing all black with unevenly cut dark hair that fell to his chin and sunken green eyes nearly obscured by the medical mask pulled over his nose and mouth. “Hideo Hatake, at your service. I’m in the same boat as Youji here, Shinobu’s still in a trial period.”

Harry shook the offered hand. “Harry Potter.” The one Harry assumed to be Shinobu shifted uncertainly for a few seconds before he too ducked in and offered a hand.

“...Shinobu Takashiro.”

“Mind telling me about yourself? The most I know is how you and Muneharu met, but I like to know who exactly I’m dealing with when it comes to my friends and anyway it’s always better to hear it from the source don’t you think?” Hideo chattered loudly, making Harry wince slightly at the close proximity, while Shinobu noticed and elbowed Hideo in the stomach none too gently.

“Ah, you’re going to be around from now on, so do tell.” Youji cut in, appearing on Harry’s other side with another cigarette dangling from his lips.

Harry blinked the smoke out of his eyes; this interest in –in _him_ , maybe because of Muneharu originally but they wanted to hear about him even while Muneharu wasn’t nearby –it was so strange, but it felt so nice, like this was how his classmates might have acted around him had he never been ‘the boy who lived’.

“There’s not much to tell, really...” Harry started off modestly.

Well, in the end ‘what ifs’ and ‘could’ve beens’ didn’t matter, and he couldn’t go back and change anything that had led him to this point. A new year was well underway; beyond the ring of bystanders he could see Muneharu laughing with a bloody nose and trapping Tanner in a headlock, over to the far right Dom and Nadia were half observing and half engrossed in each other, and there was the distant sound of fireworks going off outside of the warehouse. A year ago this night had passed uneventfully but tensely –he and Ron had been holed up in the Hospital Wing with Hermione, bemoaning their failure and Hermione’s predicament and dreading not just the fast approaching classes but also the certainty that there would be another attack.

This year would be better, Harry decided. This yeah wouldn’t be like the last two, full of uncertainty and unnecessary danger, alternately held in awe and at arm’s length by his classmates. This year he wouldn’t lose sight of what was important because of his preconceptions, this year he wasn’t going to let anyone presume that he would follow orders without reason, this year he was going to show those that wanted to keep him in the dark that _he could take care of himself._ Harry’s gaze drifted back over to a still scuffling Muneharu, and the thought of someone having expectations of him –he knew now that this was one person at least that he never wanted to let down.

Vvv

Muneharu showed up on the first day of the year with his arm in a splint, a plaster on his nose and a gift card to Pret, citing that the present was a tradition his family was fond of and not taking a word of Harry’s protests. He ended up staying for the rest of the day after Harry roped him into helping with cleaning the place –bribing with the promise of a meal if enough was finished before it got to be too late. Muneharu did him one better and tackled both the kitchen and loo by himself with only the one working arm, which had _nothing_ to do with Harry deciding that he was going to make the older boy’s favourite and tolerating his exhausted yet still smug retelling of his win over Tanner the night before.

Harry had slept like a rock that night, and the next day had practically sprung out of bed, thrumming with energy and looking forward to meeting with Neville in the afternoon. He went to Sri Guru Singh for the regular class he attended, helped do dishes for about an hour alongside Nihal (and subsequently was quizzed on the class content for his trouble) and then spent the rest of the morning cleaning what he had been too lazy to do the day before –really just his trunk, and that was mostly because he hadn’t wanted to sort through any of his wizarding possessions while Muneharu was around. He had made sure Neville’s Christmas gift was on the desk, Hedwig was fed and watered and the kettle was ready to boil when he got back, and he set out to pick his fellow Gryffindor up from the Knight Bus drop off.

Harry had suggested that Neville ask the Bus to let him out on the opposite end of the district from where Harry usually got on only because they wouldn’t have to walk as far back to Edenton. Harry knew now that it didn’t matter where he caught the Knight Bus –muggles who weren’t aware of magic didn’t notice it even if it was high noon –but he wasn’t about to start calling it even so. It took him about ten minutes to get there with the shortcut he normally took, but as he approached the designated spot he wondered if he might have come a bit early since he couldn’t see his friend.

“Harry! Over here!” A familiar voice called, and Harry turned towards the source to find Neville standing up from a sidewalk bench on the other side of the street, an anxious smile directed at him and one hand holding what looked like a cloth bag with a box inside. Harry waved back to show that he had seen him and crossed the street quickly, giving the other boy a pat on the shoulder when he was close enough.

“Great to see you, mate! Having a good holiday so far?” Harry asked cheerfully, discretely inspecting his housemate out of the corner of his eye; Neville moved along with him as he started to walk back down the street towards Edenton.

“Oh, it’s been –uh, nice. Relaxing. I’m more happy about ha-having a few weeks free of homework.” Neville told him, hands carefully adjusting their hold on the bag. He appeared tired –he was thinner than when Harry had seen him during the summer and there was definitely an unfocused glaze to his eyes whenever he did more than watch where he was stepping. “Have you? Been having a good one, I mean?”

“It’s been great.” Harry said honestly, hesitating in his steps for a split second before bypassing the alley short cut for a slightly more mainstream route home. “You ever been to Ginuliad before? I don’t think I asked in the letters.”

“Ah, no, this is my first time here.” Neville said, finally perking up a bit as he glanced around the deserted street. “I’ve never been around much of London, to be honest.”

“Well then you’re in luck, because now you’ve got a resident to give you a tour ‘round.” Harry grinned. “Not the whole place of course, it’s a bit too big to walk around in half a day, but I can point things out on the way. That over there’s the Gurdwara I’m attending, Sri Guru Singh...”

Neville paid complete attention to anything Harry brought up, occasionally asking him to elaborate if he mentioned something obscure or just too muggle for Neville to recognize, but otherwise just let Harry lead him through the unfamiliar streets like an easygoing tourist. Harry was glad that it wasn’t as nice a day as it could have been; the sharp cold in the air didn’t encourage them to linger very long and so no one stopped Harry to talk.

He had been... not nervous, but he had taken Muneharu’s warning about being recognized and stopped and harassed seriously. He already had plans to ask Mr. Kopinak to add a few protective charms to his apartment, and he had spoken with the landlord about letting people he didn’t know up to his floor without telling him first. As for Neville, Harry was happy that he was getting a friend other than Muneharu over to visit, but if he could then he didn’t want to let _anyone_ from Hogwarts or otherwise know who he was being friendly with in Ginuliad. It didn’t make him happy, but Harry had simply come to the conclusion that if they found out he was friends with gang members and traipsing about the district after dark, then he would be ordered out of Ginuliad faster than he had originally been kicked out of Privet Drive.

“This is it!” Harry announced as they turned down the walk into Edenton and emerged into the courtyard. “I’m in the Auttenberg building, over here. Watch the step...”

Harry waved at Johan when the man peered out of his open office door, but didn’t pause to talk as he led Neville up the stairs. The other Gryffindor seemed fascinated by it all, his eyes darting around and studying everything they passed on the way –which wasn’t much, but anyway. Harry let Neville into his home first and closed the door quietly, flicking on the lights when it proved to be just this side of too dim in the hall for them to see properly.

“Wow, I can’t believe you _live_ here Harry.” Neville said, toeing his shoes off and stepping tentatively into the main room, head swivelling to take it all in; Harry laughed and stepped into the kitchen for a second in order to turn the burner on underneath the kettle.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’m making some tea.” Neville nodded and after a brief hesitation stripped off his coat and hung it on the desk chair. Harry grabbed Neville’s gift off of the desk while the teen in question settled on the floor, carefully setting the bag on the table in front of him just as Harry joined him.

“Here, I got you something. Happy Christmas.” Harry presented him with the little wrapped gift –Neville’s nose turned pink and he took it like it was made of glass.

“I –well, it was supposed to be a house warming gift –it’s a family thing, but I got you –uh, it’s a bit fragile... thank you!” Neville sputtered, making Harry laugh a little, though not _at_ him.

“You’re welcome, I just hope you like it.” Harry replied easily, pulling the bag over to his own side of the table while Neville worked on opening the present. Inside the cloth bag was indeed a box as Harry had thought, made of blue paper and warm to the touch, with a small square of writing on the top telling him to press the middle of the square to open it. It must have been something magical, because following the suggestion made the paper fold itself up and into a tiny cube, revealing a potted plant that was like a tiny, frilly leaved tree.

“ _Thank you._ ” Neville stressed, and Harry smiled. He had found a leather belt pouch at a nice shop in the city, and knowing that Neville was probably better at Herbology than any other subject had been what had pushed Harry to buy it for the other boy; that it came with a good, sturdy trowel was a bonus.

“You’re welcome. Now what is this little guy?” Neville smiled back.

“That’s an Ardere Araliana Magica. It’s a tiny, magical variety of the nonmagical Ming Aralia. If you leave it in a place without much sun, the leaves glow to make up for it.” Neville gushed. “I have a few at home –Gran likes to use them to light the hall so she doesn’t have to look for her wand all of the time.”

“Thanks, Neville, I really like it.” Harry said sincerely, standing with the little plant as the kettle whistled. “I’ll put it with my cactus in the kitchen. Give me a minute...”

Neville was quiet while Harry took care of the tea –if he hadn’t known the other was there, he might have thought he was alone in his apartment. When he came back into the main room, his yearmate was staring down at the trowel Harry had given him with an unreadable expression on his face, hands white knuckled with how hard he was gripping it.

“Neville? What’s wrong?”

Neville started like he had been shocked, looked up at Harry as if he had forgotten where he was, and within seconds he was crying. Harry sucked in a startled breath and swiftly placed the tray of tea on the table, dropping down on his knees next to Neville but then halting anxiously, unsure of what he should do –or more importantly, what Neville would be comfortable with him doing.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m s-sorry.” Neville stuttered out, wiping valiantly at his still streaming eyes. “W-We haven’t even been here te-n minutes and ‘m already like this, I’m sorry-”

“It’s-” Harry reached out and took one of Neville’s hands away from his face, grasping it loosely between his own and stopping himself from making empty placations. “Neville, _what’s_ _wrong_?”

Neville hiccupped and sniffed, and the frown he gave then was so uncharacteristic of the shy yet cheerful boy Harry had lived with only half a year prior that Harry was quite suddenly questioning if he even wanted to know.

“I’m... sorry.” Neville repeated. “I-I’m happy to see you, I really am. I was –just thinking that after this –I would have to-to go back to Hog-warts, and, and you haven’t been there so you don’t really know what it’s been like, but I don’t –I’m. I... don’t like being there anymore.” Neville wiped his face again. “I –I –I _hate it_.” He said vehemently, shakily, and Harry tightened his hold but otherwise didn’t move. “I don’t _mean_ to be so –so _clumsy_ and _stupid._ But I can never-remember-the-stupid-password so I thought I would get them all, because the new portrait keeps _changing_ them all the time, and I don’t know how it happened –but somehow my list go-ot away from me and –and now my Gran won’t let me live it down –barely anyone at school even talks to me-”

“ _What?_ ” Harry demanded, outraged on Neville’s behalf; because he knew exactly what Neville was talking about, was avoiding actually talking outright about even as he was distracted by fresh streams of tears. Hermione had brought it up even when Ron didn’t, detailing what she had managed to gather from the first few tellings of how Sirius Black had gained entry into the Gryffindor dorms, but he hadn’t thought it would be so – _why_ hadn’t he thought it would turn out-

“Neville, you have nothing to apologize for.” Harry said firmly. “Sirius Black is an adult, a grown wizard. You are thirteen, and you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“H-Harry?” Neville whispered.

“This is the exact same _shit_ that happened last year.” Harry spat angrily. “At least tell me you have someone there to talk to. Hermione and Ron surely don’t hold something so –so – _uncontrollable_ against you?”

By this point Neville had stopped crying, and was clutching at Harry’s hands as if to ground himself –or ground Harry, maybe. “They –they don’t, they don’t hold it against me. Hermione’s just... she’s so busy with her extra classes this year, I feel like I’m distracting her. And Ron’s been down, he hasn’t been the same since you didn’t come back –he’s been doing a lot of Quidditch training and you know how I am on a broom...”

Neville’s rushed reassurances made Harry calm down a bit –at the very least his two best friends hadn’t gone the way of the rest of the student body –but there were still tinges of red at the edge of his vision. Every passing week it seemed he came upon yet another reason to discard his...

Not his connection to the Magical World, because his first friends were there, and his family had come from there, and it had been the first place that he had felt like he could belong to. Not the sentiment the place held for him either, because whether he liked it or not he had grown attached and couldn’t forget about all of the better times that had once been. But perhaps what he needed to put aside were his expectations, his willingness in this one part of his life to believe the best of those who had disappointed him before, and seemed like they would only continue to do so.

“You,” Harry began carefully, his voice measured so that he wouldn’t come off too strong. “Will write to me whenever you want to, and if you’re ever in town don’t hesitate to stop in even if it’s only for a minute. I don’t know how bad it really is, that’s true, but if anyone gives you a hard time for something so _insignificant_ again you be sure to tell me. I don’t appreciate people mistreating my friends.”

Neville looked like he was about to start crying again, so Harry took the opportunity to pull him into a hug –something he rarely initiated himself but had grown used to over the course of his friendship with Muneharu. Neville stiffened briefly in shock before he returned the hug hesitantly, and while he didn’t cry the tremors in his shoulders were enough to tell Harry just how much the gesture affected him.

“...friends.” Harry heard Neville whisper, and Harry stared at the wall in front of him and tightened his grip on Neville to try and stop himself from punching the wall.

Neville stayed as long as he could on Harry’s own insistence, and they worked their way through two pots of tea along with Harry’s leftovers from yesterday’s dinner. They kept the atmosphere light; Harry told a few funnier stories from the last four months, and Neville nattered about Herbology and the few times that Hermione and Ron had pulled him into one of their study sessions. There was a brief relapse into seriousness when Neville mentioned the Boggart from Lupin’s class –Harry had heard about Ron and Hermione’s fears in their letters –but he really hadn’t been prepared to find out that Neville biggest fear was... was _Snape._ If he didn’t think too hard about it he could almost see the comedy of Neville dressing the Boggart-Snape in his gran’s clothing. But lately Harry hadn’t been one to take things at face value, and the almost _offhand_ mention of the issue was just about as worrying as the issue in itself.

Harry must have looked too sombre, or given away somehow that he hadn’t found the tale very funny at all, because Neville went into a brief panic before Harry could calm him down and get them back onto a less stressful topic. But internally Harry started making a list, one that he might have to write down to remember if the little ways Neville’s fright and anxiety showed themselves was any indication of the letters to come. In part of his mind Harry knew that he would go back to Hogwarts next year, but he wasn’t about to let people just _get away_ with the same shit they had and still were pulling to this day.

Least of all a teacher who was the single greatest fear of a thirteen year old boy.

When it finally came time for Neville to catch the Knight Bus again that evening, Harry also insisted on walking him to the pickup point –which Neville readily agreed to as he admitted to being atrocious even with written directions. This time Harry took a few shortcuts on the way there, mostly so he didn’t cross onto Pedrotti territory as Muneharu had mentioned that they didn’t get along particularly well with EMOD, but also so that he could show Neville a bit more of the neighbourhood before he left. When it finally came time, the goodbyes were short, but promising, and Harry waved the Bus off, a blast of cold air smacking him in the face as it barrelled away from Ginuliad faster than the eye could see.

Harry took a route he hadn’t before and set off back to Edenton, the soft yellow glow cast by the streetlights making the snow coating the tree limbs sparkle in the darkness. Harry’s shadow was long and sharp across the pavement in front of him –and there wasn’t much open so soon after New Year’s, so the shop windows he passed were mostly black and empty, a bit spooky if he was being honest. His crunching footsteps were the only sound in the deserted street, and despite the eerie feeling he was getting it was relaxing walking like this, through the sparsely falling snow, the silence an interesting change from Ginuliad’s normal bustle.

Not too long ago, Harry would have thought something like this to be unbelievable. Ever since he had become aware of the wizarding world, he had subconsciously pulled away from the muggle one –not difficult considering that he had to live with the Dursley’s when he wasn’t at Hogwarts. So lately his thoughts had been entirely magical, on everything from what sort of games he played to the music he enjoyed, even down to the drinks he preferred. If one had told him even as recently as June that he would soon be enjoying living a practically muggle life in the city, away from wizards and everything he had come to think of as ‘home’, well he would have been very sceptical.

And even before then, when he hadn’t had magic to offer endless new possibilities and he was just a ten year old waiting for when he would be shipped off to Stonewall, he wouldn’t have believed it either. At ten all he had wanted to do was get away from Dudley and Privet Drive for a few months of the year, even if it meant he would be getting his head stuffed down a toilet at school and have to save up his own pocket money to buy the proper uniform. It never would have entered his head that three years on he would be blessed with this independence, this freedom to do what he wanted even if there was danger on the horizon, that he would have good friends his own age, and older friends who smiled at him, and that people who lived around him would actually _like_ to speak with him.

Harry kicked at a pile of snow in his path and grinned lightly –he was going to enjoy the look on the Dursley’s faces when he saw them next and thanked them for putting him up here.

Out of the corner of his eye right then, Harry noticed a flash of dark brown and purple hovering just inside the alleyway across the road, one of many that hadn’t been shovelled properly for weeks, only the first few feet in that was required for trash collection. He turned his head slightly to get a better look while he kept walking, and saw that it was a person –not smoking or calling someone, no open stores anywhere on this street or really any lights on in any of the immediate windows above them. Harry saw the person’s head swivel to follow him and he sped up a little, nerves bubbling up in his stomach.

A block more and faintly there came the unmistakable noise of several people walking through the snow behind him, probably at least a block back but the footfalls were heavy and definitely more than two people. He snuck another glance as he turned onto a side street and tensed at what he saw –maybe seven older teenagers, all dressed differently except for the one distinct similarity –the purple two headed dragon emblazoned on the right breast of each of their jackets.

 _“You’ll have to deal with –Double Heads Dragon members potentially seeing you as a target.”_ Muneharu had told him, and Harry had taken him seriously –had even avoided the Pedrotti –but hadn’t really believed that he would be accosted so soon, and certainly not by so many. _“And they were after you... ‘cause you know some members of this EMOD?”_

Harry picked up the pace, and before they could react he spun abruptly and took off running in the opposite direction from where he would have turned to get to Edenton’s main entrance. Thus far he hadn’t needed to use it, the so called ‘secret back door’ to the courtyard that Rafid had pointed out to him earlier on in his stay, but he knew where it was for the most part and well –there was no better time than the present!

A bark of outrage from the group, and suddenly the footsteps of a calm tailing party changed into the more familiar sound of a pack giving chase. From the brief sight of them that he had managed, Harry knew that most of them were closer to Dom’s height than his own; but he hadn’t run from Dudley’s posse all his life just to get caught because someone had longer legs than he did. In his mind Harry could see the layout of Ginuliad’s streets as clear as day, and he recalled that in a few blocks he would be upon the exact opposite side to the main entrance to his home. The back door was at the end of a long alley, the one that went in between the Auttenberg and Joe Komp buildings. For a harrowing moment Harry’s heel slid on a hidden patch of ice and he thought that he was about to fall, but at the last second he managed to right himself –his heart beat faster than ever and he ducked around a corner as soon as he reached it, sprinting carefully as possible down the next dimly lit city street.

That first alley Harry saw, he abandoned all pretence and made a break for it –it was well lit and free of snow drifts but longer than he had expected. As he approached the end he saw that it made a sharp turn to the right, and he nearly smashed his shoulder into the wall trying to take the turn at the speed he was going.

“Nowhere to go, huh? Too bad.” A voice taunted from behind him. Harry spun away from the sight of the brick walled dead end and faced the several teens crowding his only exit, pressing his back fruitlessly against the bricks as if it might provide him some sort of escape. “You gave us a pretty good chase there, kid.”

“Th-Thanks. Er –any chance you could just... let me out?” Harry tried, acutely aware of every move the larger group made; he stiffened when he saw that one of the ones further back was leaning casually on a wooden baseball bat.

“None.” The one nearest to him said without hesitation. “This is such a golden opportunity; it’d be a shame to let it go to waste, right?”

“Uh –uhm...” Harry stuttered, his mind fizzling as he ran out of options.

It was stupid, Harry had been in danger before. He had flung spells at a mountain troll, burned a possessed professor’s face off, thrust a medieval sword through the brain of a hundred foot Basilisk –but being ganged up on by anyone older than ten wasn’t something he had expected after all of that. It was so _stupid_ ; he should be able to take his past experience with danger and just –apply it, use it, _at least not let this affect him_ –but all he could feel was his stomach drop out and a sharp stab of fear as the presumed ringleader reached out and dragged him forward by the collar of his jacket.

“If you wake up, tell Herrera that Rafael’s not going to be so kind next time.” He imparted like he had practiced, and that was when Harry’s fight-or-flight instincts kicked into high gear.

His leg lashed out and caught his captor in the groin with as much force as Harry could muster –the teen released him with a wheeze and Harry pushed his retracting torso away from him and into the closest boy he could see –and that act broke the pseudo-calm atmosphere like a mirror.

“Fucking _brat_!”

Harry may have had some angles to his advantage, such as his smaller, faster stature and practice with evading those larger than him, but he was still short and on the scrawny side, and most importantly he was still just thirteen years old. He managed to take the bat out of the equation by using the momentum of his push to ram his shoulder into the boy and kick his weapon so it skidded away and out of sight. A fist connected with his stomach and he fell back, and his arms were seized by someone behind him and held fast, painfully wrenched around to just below his shoulder blades. Harry swung his head back into his captor’s chin and stomped on a foot, and was leaning forward after the hold on him had slackened when another punch connected at his nose and his glasses were knocked from his face with a stinging scrape.

Harry’s blurry vision gained black spots at the edges after that, and the snippets that came through when he later tried to recall what happened afterwards were confusing. There had been an amount of loud, reverberating blows while his arms were restrained from the back again, some words spat at him but nothing he could clearly make out. His knee had received a kick that made him shout in pain, and he was kicked again after that as if to try and make him repeat himself.

Then there had been a few seconds of complete clarity. His knees hadn’t yet given out on him but the attacks had paused –blood was gushing into his eyes and out of his nose into his mouth, and _from_ his mouth down his chin –he could barely see, could barely feel himself breathing, but the next moment was even more disorienting as he was abruptly released. He swayed where he stood for a long few seconds, before he was spun around, his foot was crushed, and everything went back to fuzzy when a pair of clasped hands swung into the side of his upper arm and his forehead collided with the alley wall.

He hit the ground and landed in a pile of slush and dirt, and a few kicks to the stomach registered numbly before there was another shout and he was left alone, not hearing anything after that as he slipped into a cold, blissful sleep. Later he would find out that he had been unconscious for over fourteen hours, but when he woke in an unfamiliar sleeping bag in an apartment he had never seen before, it felt to him as if he had been sleeping for days.


	12. Quiet Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of a transitional chapter.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

Upon waking, Harry initially huddled back into the squishy material encasing him, simultaneously trying to keep himself warm but also feign continued sleep. His body buzzed and felt too tight, too uncomfortable, and his hair was loose but there was still something wrapped over his temples, obscuring the vision of his left eye. There was a clock loudly ticking somewhere nearby, and either a radio or a television playing as well; light was shining through his single eyelid, bright enough that it must have been nearly noon by now. Paying close attention, he could hear the noise of the city through a window, feel a slight cold breeze against his face, and it smelled of snow and cigarette smoke.

Harry blinked a few times and stared up at the blurry ceiling, not recognizing it. Looking to the right he saw that he had been pushed against an avocado coloured wall, and to his left he could make out a few shapes that he figured must be the furnishings of the apartment. There was a dark coloured desk or table across the room, a bookshelf next to that, and half a wall separating this room from another that Harry had to think was a kitchen. The light was flooding in from above his head, and craning his neck afforded him a view of a large window slightly left open, through which lazed a figure that he knew was frustratingly, but unidentifiably familiar.

He tested each of his extremities carefully; he could immediately tell that the palms of his hands were badly scraped, two of the fingers on his non-dominant hand were bound together and forced straight, and the opposite forearm was wrapped tightly from his wrist to his elbow. There was padding and more tight wrapping on his left shoulder and around his torso, and though his stomach wasn’t covered it hurt more than anything else did. Further down, his left knee felt like it was twice its normal size and both of his shins were bound, and when he tried wriggling his toes none hurt very badly but his right pinkie toe was splinted and tingling. Shifting his head, he could now tell that there was a wad of padding taped to his lower left jaw and over his smarting nose, which meant that his left eye was probably covered by the same, and it was gauze that was securely coiled around his skull –with more absorbent padding over his left temple and most of his forehead.

How had he ended up here? Neville had left on the Knight Bus, he had started to make his way home... there had been Double Heads Dragon members following him and he had tried to run for the back entrance but he must have chosen the wrong alley. They had said something about a golden opportunity and delivered some kind of message, and he had tried to fight them off before they had overwhelmed him and –and then...

The click of the window being pulled up jarred him out of his reverie, and he flinched in surprise which only made his pain spike and he gasped against his will. Whoever had been outside was now back in, and Harry kept his eye shut in discomfort while they shuffled about before something angular and well known to him was pressed against his cheek.

“Your glasses.” A boy said, familiar but for the life of him Harry couldn’t place him. Harry hated that he couldn’t tell who it was, and so he painstakingly extracted a hand from the confines of the sleeping bag to grasp shakily at his miraculously intact glasses.

“Thanks.” Harry said as he pushed them onto his face awkwardly, a tad difficult due to his no doubt broken nose and the manner in which it had been bound, but still possible. The clarity blindsided him for a few seconds –he recognized the ceiling now, it was just like his own –and he turned to see who was sitting next to him before sucking in a startled breath when it turned out to be the boy who had yelled at him over a cigarette.

He was probably around the same height and age as Harry, with eyes that were nearly black and light brown hair tied into a high ponytail to keep it out of his face. It was almost like how Malfoy kept his but was significantly shorter and this guy had shaved the sides down as well. He had olive coloured skin dotted with old scars, fresh bruises and a multitude of bandaids, and he was wearing a black house coat over a white shirt and washed out jeans.

“You’re the same newcomer they say went toe-to-toe with that Maekawa asshole, right?” He demanded without preamble, staring down at Harry with intensity the wizard was rarely subjected to. The way he asked irked Harry something fierce, and he glared up at the other for a minute while trying to decide what to say.

“Be careful who you insult.” Harry said at length, well aware that by the snort the other let out it had probably come off more like a sulking little kid posturing than the warning he had hoped for.

“I don’t want to hear that from some bastard wrapped up like a mummy.” He shot back, flicking Harry’s injured forehead hard enough to make him flinch. “But I guess that’s answer enough!”

“What does it matter to you anyways?” Harry demanded without any heat, somehow feeling calm despite this vulnerable position he was in –cigarette-boy flicked him again, looking annoyed now.

“I came here myself last year, and was taken in by Corrina.” He said, and though Harry glared at him through the stinging headache that was coming on he decided it would be best to just listen and get this over with. “I didn’t know what she was getting at, telling me to pay attention to some punkass with ties to the EMOD, but I did. You’d pissed me off even before hanging out with that prick though, so I thought that sooner or later I would end up snapping and would make you see just how much of a shit decision it was to stick around here!”

Faintly, Harry realized that with his body not moving the way he wanted it to, being so injured, there was a good chance that cigarette-boy was going to get so frustrated talking that he might punch something if he didn’t calm down –and Harry was in just the right place that he was a sure target. But he needn’t have worried so much, because in the next minute the other teen had barked out a laugh and relaxed, grinning at him like he hadn’t just been implying that he had planned to beat him up enough that he would want to leave town.

“But man, I think I misjudged you! You had guts to try and take out those Dragon fuckers with those odds against you! I bet you could have taken them if they hadn’t ganged up on you like that. That group wasn’t made up of idiots, either.” Harry turned fairly red at the praise, though from what he could recall he would have sworn that he hadn’t actually fared very well. “It makes sense now, she must have seen that you’d eventually be a rival I’d have to go up against any number of times in the future! When you’ve recovered from this, let’s have a proper fight!”

“Huh?” Harry asked smartly –was everyone he met in this town going to bring up fighting one way or the other?

“A man’s only living when he has something to strive for, someone to measure up to!” Cigarette-boy said passionately, and Harry was sure for a second that there were actual stars in his eyes. “We’re the same age, live in the same area, we’re going to see each other around anyway. So we should have a proper fight, and then we can start off fresh!”

Harry stared at the _still_ unnamed teen and was reminded rather well of a dog wagging its tail while waiting for praise, and the mental image was so unlike how he had perceived cigarette-boy before now that it made something switch in his mind and he started to laugh. The other had sat back by the time Harry dissolved into coughing and agonized groans, an irritated look in his eye at the chuckles Harry still managed to let out even while feeling like he was about to die.

“Q-Quit laughing you bastard! I was being serious!” He hissed, face gone beet red.

“Hah... I’m sorry...” Harry grinned, and began to push himself into a sitting position, valiantly ignoring his protesting body. “Sorry, you just c-caught me off guard. Sure, let’s go at it once I stop feeling quite like I was run over by a train. I’m Harry Potter.”

Cigarette-boy’s eyes widened as Harry managed to stick out a hand for him to shake. “Roy Flores.” He said, cheeks still red and grasping the appendage lightly so as not to reinjure it. “Sorry for cussing you out that one time.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Harry assured him. “Do you have somewhere to sit up? The floor’s not the most comfortable of places.”

“Right! Here, let me help you...” Roy awkwardly unzipped the sleeping bag and pushed it off of Harry’s legs, and when the wizard proved to have a hard time putting weight on the one with the swollen knee Roy gently slung the less injured of Harry’s arms over his shoulder to assist him. The apartment seemed to be slightly larger than Harry’s though not by much, and Roy had used what extra space he had to put a table next to the divide between the main room and the kitchen, which was where he and Harry ended up seated.

“Do you want anything to drink? I have coffee made up already.” He offered.

“Sure, that would be nice... so, how did I end up here? I can’t really remember much after my glasses got knocked off.” Harry asked, shifting slightly every few seconds to try and find a position that didn’t make his body scream in annoyance while Roy went into the kitchen to make up the drinks.

“Oh, well, after I took out those shits I found you passed out on the ground, and you were a little too injured to just wake up, so I brought you to Deana to get patched up and then here to sleep it off. I didn’t want to try taking you home because that Johan guy probably would’ve called the cops on me.” Roy said matter-of-factly. “It’s eleven in the morning now, you’ve been asleep since I found you.”

“How did you find –wait, you took those guys out by yourself?”

“Yeah, they weren’t a problem for me at all!” Roy replied proudly. “Granted, that bat I found before they spotted me sure did help.” He waved across the room, and Harry turned to see the wooden bat that had freaked him out the night before leaning innocuously against the sliding door. “I didn’t know it was you originally, but I saw you run by with them hot on your heels –and the Dragons are all assholes anyway, so I wanted to at least see that they got their asses kicked one way or another.”

“I’m glad you did.” Harry accepted the steaming mug as it was passed to him, and then pulled the sugar bowl towards him to spoon a few dollops into the coffee. Roy was quiet as he stirred his own drink, and suddenly Harry was extremely conscious of the fact that he wasn’t wearing his bandana nor the clothes he had dropped Neville off in hours prior –and he tried valiantly to distract himself. “Y-You mentioned that you don’t like Muneharu?”

Roy scowled, but it didn’t reek of malcontent the way Harry had seen the first time they had ‘spoken’, just irritation. “He kicked my ass when I first got here, but mostly I just don’t like his attitude. He –he’s not arrogant, ‘cause he can walk the talk, but he’s –he’s, y’know, he’s-”

“Conceited, right?” Harry suggested, having felt the same way on occasion over the past couple of months. “He takes any opportunity he gets to show off, I should know. He’s incredibly proud of himself, and doesn’t see anything wrong with that –not that there really is when you can back yourself up like he can. The only ones he really gets humble around are Dom and Nadia from what I’ve seen.”

“Not even you?” Roy asked, sounding highly confused; Harry frowned.

“N-No? Why would he?”

“He recruited you, didn’t he? I wouldn’t’ve pegged you as the type to be swayed by just relentless hounding.” Roy leaned back in his chair, looking slightly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. “Y’know, I don’t like him, but he’s no moron. It’s just the impression I got.”

“Er, well, I wasn’t... recruited by him, just so we’re clear. I’m not a part of EMOD.” Harry shrugged. “I mean, I’m affiliated with them, I suppose. I went to one of their parties and Muneharu’s... he’s one of my close friends –but as of now I’m not even a _prospective_ member. But I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, ‘haru told me people wouldn’t care whether I actually was or not and would just assume what they wanted.”

“So the Dragons are going after anyone even remotely connected to EMOD now? Their boss must have some sort of hard on for causing Herrera grief.” Harry turned slightly red at the vulgarity of Roy’s words, but inwardly agreed with it all the same. Then what Roy actually said filtered through his embarrassment, and he tried to stand up suddenly only to come crashing back to the seat with a pained gasp. “Woah, what’s wrong?” Roy asked, and if Harry had doubted the other boy’s sincerity before then he wouldn’t anymore –most people were hard pressed to show even a fraction of the worry Roy was exuding, and they had barely known each other half an hour.

“Ergh... just remembered... what o-one of them told me to tell Dom.” Harry wheezed out through the constriction in his lungs, trying to concentrate on making the pain lessen quicker. “Ah, if –if the Dragons keep –this up... hah, I’ve got to let Dom know sooner r-ather than later.”

“Not in that state you don’t! You’d keel over before you got halfway out the door.” Roy tried to reason, but even with his mind clouded by pain Harry knew that this was important; he insisted that he had to let them know somehow, just in case, and eventually Roy relented.

The phone was modern, one of those newer cordless varieties that he vaguely remembered his aunt purchasing at one point in the summer –Harry had never had anyone to call before though, so he hadn’t paid much attention. The throbbing in his limbs finally easing, he had a better time recalling Muneharu’s work number and hoped that he wouldn’t be interrupting one of the older teen’s personal projects even as Douglas answered and Harry shakily asked for him to call Muneharu over. Roy pointedly stood then and flashed him a wave, before grabbing his carton of smokes and moving back towards the balcony, and Harry had a few seconds to wonder who was selling cigarettes to a thirteen year old before his friend answered with a tired greeting.

“He-Hey, ‘haru, it’s Harry. I didn’t take you away from something important, did I?” Harry asked, voice a bit out of whack after the way his lungs had betrayed him.

“Harry! You’re calling me!” Muneharu said, voice a paragon of happy confusion; he had given Harry his contact information, but Harry had never used it what with there being no phone in his apartment. “No, I was just about to take my break, what’s up?”

“Well, last night... er. I was coming back from dropping a friend off, and there were some Double Heads Dragon members-” Harry heard something scrape loudly on the other side of the line and immediately felt on edge. “I –I’m fine now, but they sort of. Gave me a message for –uh, for Dom. I thought I should tell you as soon as possible.”

“What did they say?” Muneharu asked coolly –Harry winced.

“It was, ‘tell Hererra that Rafael’s not going to be so kind next time’.” The silence from Muneharu’s end was deafening, and despite knowing the other well, having been his friend for nearly two months now and seeing him as sort of a –role model? –well, Harry felt the hairs on his neck stand up when Muneharu asked that he tell him where he was at the moment.

“Just a second.” He pulled the receiver away from his mouth and covered it, hands jittery with a bit of fear he couldn’t suppress as he called out to get Roy’s attention. Muneharu was a wonderful person in a lot of ways, but sometimes Harry would see an expression on his face or hear him say something offhand and it would send a shiver down his spine. Not for himself, no, he knew that once Muneharu cared for someone it was almost impossible for him to go back on it, but he was definitely worried about what would happen when someone eventually came around and made Muneharu snap completely.

“Ap-partment 24, East Wing of the Joe Komp building in Edenton. Don’t do anything to Roy when he answers the door.” Harry could practically feel Muneharu’s unspoken demand of ‘why can’t you open the door yourself’, but he received an agreement before the line cut off abruptly.

Roy came back inside a few minutes later, and Harry warned him about the fact that the same person Roy professed to disliking immensely was about to come over in a bad mood, and that Harry would really appreciate it if Roy would let him in –if only to avoid a bigger confrontation. The other boy didn’t like it (and complained profusely) but did agree in the end to being civil, if only because Harry had played up the ‘injured houseguest’ angle in an effort to gain sympathy.

Burke’s Auto wasn’t an incredible distance away, but it was still sooner than he had expected when Harry heard a distant stomping coming from the stairs, which quickly changed to boots down the hallway and then loud pounding on the door. Roy grumbled but wasted no time going to answer, yelling a bit when the hammering didn’t let up, and then there was silence before Muneharu appeared in the door to the room. Harry tried to smile but it probably came off as a grimace as Muneharu took in his battered appearance, a dark and dangerous expression flickering over his face before it smoothed into one of pure concern.

Harry’s nerves lessened significantly just from that.

“I brought him to a friend of mine to get patched up.” Roy said, nudging Muneharu further into the room with an annoyed gleam in his eye at having to be in his presence. “She gave me a slip for what was wrong, I put it with your stuff when I brought you back here.”

“Thanks, Roy.” Harry said, and gingerly pulled the nearest chair out from the table, gesturing to it while shooting Muneharu an imploring look. His friend took a seat still wearing that concerned, subdued expression; Roy looked between the two of them uncomfortably for a moment before loudly declaring that he was going to go outside to have another smoke.

“You told me you got into trouble a lot,” Muneharu said once the window was closed behind their host, an edge of amusement in his tone even with the careful study he was giving Harry’s injuries. “I didn’t expect you to be a trouble _magnet_.”

“You haven’t known me long enough, then.” Harry joked half-heartedly.

“...maybe not.” Harry blinked at Muneharu in surprise upon registering the serious sounding mutter. “You’re not going to be up and running for at least a week, with that knee.”

Sheepishly Harry looked down, and sure enough he could tell that it was swollen even underneath the thin track pants he was wearing. “Seems like it. I can’t stand for even ten seconds and it _barely_ hurts compared to the rest of me.” There would be no magical healing this time around with both Roy and Muneharu having seen him like this. He flexed his hands as much as he could, glad that the scrapes covering his palms were already starting to close and look less inflamed. “But it isn’t as bad as it could’ve been. I didn’t give them the chance to use _that._ ” Here Harry smugly tilted his head towards the baseball bat Roy had pilfered, but he felt a little guilty when he saw that Muneharu’s cheeks drained of all colour the instant he caught sight of it.

“Stay with me for a bit then.” Muneharu offered instantly, earnestly. “Or let me kip at your place. You made the decision to cement ties with us, but you’re my- ...it’s my responsibility to make sure you heal properly.”

“No, I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that. It’s your place.” Harry protested, but by the gleam in Muneharu’s eyes he felt like he wasn’t going to win this argument. “Honest, I had worse from playing sports last year, I’ll be alright on my o-”

“You’re too humble for your own good, Harry! And by now I should hope you’ve realized that you don’t _have_ to be alright on your own.” Muneharu dismissed flippantly, crossing his arms. “I can’t believe I have to _say_ it, but you’re like a little brother to me, and when I said that stuff about taking newcomers under wing, nothing magically excluded _you_. Rely on me for a while, if not for anything else then at least for this mess that _was_ partially my fault.”

“I-” _Rely on me._ Harry swallowed thickly, and didn’t know how to react beyond, “I’ll be in your care, then.”

Vvv

With Muneharu at work for the last few hours of the day, Harry had no idea how to occupy himself in the unfamiliar apartment he was now going to be living in.

When they had left his place, Roy had been happy to see Muneharu go but reminded Harry of their promised fight and said that he should come by to visit if he was ever bored, which Harry agreed to easily. It was difficult getting down the rickety staircase with how injured he was, and they had puzzled over just how Roy had been able to manage it before Muneharu came to an epiphany and hoisted Harry up onto his back like a koala. They were stared at as they exited Roy’s building and went up to Harry’s (Rafid saw them in the hallway and almost had a panic attack) and while difficult to convince Muneharu had eventually agreed to let him gather his belongings by himself while he went to tell Johan what was going on and call a taxi.

Harry had spent a few minutes penning a letter to Mr. Kopinak, letting him know that he was changing residences for a week or two and wouldn’t be able to attend class with how ‘sick’ he was. As a solution to the delay in class time he suggested that he try to take his exams at Hogwarts come June instead of the earlier dates they had tentatively sketched out. For good measure he had also written a quick missive to Gringott’s to inform them of the same, but in the context that if anything came up with the Sirius Black situation he wouldn’t be able to attend any meetings for at least two weeks.

Then, shuffling around on his one good leg, he’d filled his bag with his food money, clothes, toiletries, Sri Guru Singh class material, and any other miscellaneous items he thought he would require (though he would come back if he needed to, of course). Muneharu returned just as he was finishing up, and swung Harry up onto his back as gingerly as he could, careful again to avoid Harry’s swollen knee. The taxi had been paid for and waiting, and within minutes they had been on their way –Muneharu had been apologetic, but had only been able to stay long enough to get him settled before running back to work to make up for storming out earlier.

So now Harry was sitting at the kitchen table (he refused to mess up his sleep schedule even more by lying down before the evening) with a lukewarm pot of tea, his backpack near his feet and his Gurmukhi exercises spread out in front of him, but no motivation to get any of it done. The past hour had been agonizing –he had always felt uncomfortable being in other people’s homes even when they were present. From Mrs. Figg’s or his aunt’s friend Yvonne’s or the Burrow to the Maekawa household, it was always like that, and it was even worse when he was alone because of how little experience he had with the situation.

He had turned on the radio to distract himself when he heard a familiar tapping on the pane of the kitchen window, and when he finally figured out how to open the damned screen the owl had grown so impatient that it had let the letter drop onto the sill and flown off. Harry huffed in amusement, snatched the letter before the wind could blow it away and quickly righted the window; he recognized the Gringotts seal on the outside of the scroll and was itching for information.

Silvermark had been the one to write to him, acknowledging his earlier letter and then telling him everything that he had been waiting to learn since the last update before Christmas. Ochrestone had been doing extensive research in their records to find the retrieval spell parameters, and currently was organizing the preparations needed to perform it –there would be charges to his account along the same lines that they had previously discussed, and Gringotts would take care of Sirius Black’s subsequent holding and trial immediately upon his arrival if all went smoothly. And, like they had agreed, any decision on his fate would be made after finding out the truth... _and_ after Harry had the chance to meet him, regardless of what that truth was.

Harry wasn’t ecstatic, per say, but he felt mostly content at the news –certainly not irritated, as he had come to accept that even things put on rush like this took time to handle properly. He penned a response then and there and set it with his classwork to send out once Hedwig showed up again, and was in a much calmer mood when Muneharu actually did return for the day.

Which was evidently a good thing, as the older boy had deigned to bring Dominic Herrera back with him.

Harry was startled by the unexpected sight of Dom following Muneharu into the kitchen, expression serious and studying Harry with that certain look of carefully contained outrage. Again Harry felt small under his gaze, but resisted the urge to avert his eyes as Dom took a seat across from him at the table and Muneharu moved so that he hovered a few feet behind him, an unreadable expression on his face. Harry felt that he should try to say something –what, he had no idea –to put the situation at ease, but the sight of Muneharu’s slight head shake out of his peripheral vision stopped him.

“I offer my deepest apologies to you, for getting you involved in our conflict like this, Harry.” Dom eventually said, looking extremely troubled. “I realize that you knew the risks of associating with us, but this goes too far even for Mikawa. Rest assured that we’re not just going to let this slide.”

“Itakura and Madrina are already out looking for those guys who got the drop on you.” Muneharu said. “And Wally’s staked out the Dragon’s base. They’ll be taken care of once everyone’s come to an agreement.”

“Wait, wait! ‘Taken care of’?” Harry asked, out of his depth.

“Mikawa was the one who ordered this, and he’s been testing my patience for far too long.” Dom explained. “I can’t let him carry on this way, or next time it might be worse.”

“Look, I know that you guys feel... responsible, for this, but-” Harry stalled briefly at the way both of the older boys frowned. “-but Roy already beat up the ones who actually _did_ this. Is this some kind of –of bigger gang thing you guys want to wrap up? Is that why you’re taking this so seriously?”

Dom’s troubled look intensified and Muneharu let out a long suffering sigh. “Maybe,” Dom started to say. “It would be better if you put it out of your mind for the time being and focused on recovering. I need to pick Charlie up soon anyway.”

“Muneharu?” Harry asked.

“...Thanks, Dom. I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time lately.” Dom scoffed and pat his shoulder heavily.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget I’m introducing the new prospects.” Dom then raised a hand and turned briefly to regard Harry before he left. “Feel better, Harry. Leave Mikawa to us.”

“But I don’t –‘haru what’s going _on?_ ”

“Look, there are bigger things at play right now than just the Dragons attacking you.” Muneharu started somewhat uncomfortably. “We appreciate that Flores guy acting on your behalf, but Rafael Mikawa had been a thorn in everyone’s side for longer than you’ve been in Ginuliad. You being hurt _isn’t_ some measly pretext to kick their asses. This incident was one of over a hundred that Dom’s had to deal with, that Dom tried to _put off_ dealing with because of who Mikawa used to be to him. This made Dom see that... well, it’s not my place to spell it out.” Harry remained silent at the conflicted look on Muneharu’s face. “Just know that you’re not an _excuse_ for what will happen, Harry. Please, I don’t want to get into it at a time like this.”

Harry swallowed the impulse to demand more information, taking in how frazzled Muneharu was acting, and instead agreed to put the issue aside.

Vvv

The two weeks Harry spent in Muneharu’s company went slowly and slightly tensely at first, and then picked up once Harry grew more comfortable staying in the other’s apartment and accepted that EMOD was going to do something about Double Heads Dragon whether he liked it or not. His injuries progressed much the same –he suspected that his magic might have helped with the healing, as according to the note that Roy’s friend had left, he shouldn’t have been as recovered as he was until the third or fourth week.

To occupy himself, Harry asked Nihal to bring him work on the days he normally would have taken classes, and he dug through Muneharu’s cupboards to find ingredients to try and cook dinner with. When he was able to move around a bit more, Muneharu brought him into the shop and taught him a bit about the cars he was working on, as well as having him help with the moped project once his shift clocked out.

It wasn’t as if he needed the break (after the weeks off he was given for Christmas) but Harry appreciated it nonetheless, especially when Mr. Kopinak finally got around to sending him his revised schedule for the semester. He would have fewer classes overall, but the difficulty of the classwork would be going up as well as the periodical testing that his tutor was required to give him. When he had nothing else to do and wasn’t feeling up to accompanying Muneharu to work, he sat at the kitchen table and meticulously planned out a weekly schedule –he had learnt that he did best with structure and wanted to take advantage of the opportunity.

Muneharu had turned into a giant mother hen during the time Harry stayed with him, but as soon as the day came where Harry wanted to go back to his own place he reverted back to how he used to be. As much as the lack of teasing and the quiet had been nice while he was convalescing, Harry much preferred Muneharu being himself, even if he was overwhelming and a shit-disturber at times.

Luckily, his two weeks ended up being an ample amount of time for him to recover, just in time for Gringott’s to summon him back for some required legal signatures before they finally went through with retrieving Sirius Black. He managed most of the trip into Diagon normally and only felt a bit woozy on his way back home, and then he was back to normal –with the only difference being his newfound friendship with Roy, who seemed to have become quite fond of talking with him even with Harry’s friendship with Muneharu.

Overall, Harry would say that the EMOD party he had attended and the subsequent attack from Double Heads Dragon hadn’t changed much of his day to day life; in fact, it was almost too smooth how little it had affected him overall, given the amount of time he was laid up in bandages. Once he was fully recovered he slipped easily back into his schoolwork with only concern from Mr. Kopinak to have to appease (those at Hogwarts remaining none the wiser of his ails) and the expected amount of anxiety as he waited for the Sirius Black situation to progress. He had ample free time to finish his assignments and do as he pleased, take classes at Sri Guru Singh, volunteer at the langar with Nihal and have tea with Rafid, and nothing would have changed from that routine for a good while had Ken Kuniyoshi not approached him one day in early February and offered him a job.

It was entirely unexpected, and threw Harry for a bit of a loop –with his apparent ever growing association with people involved in gangs (Roy being a Red Sabor prospect), he would have thought that his ‘reputation’ from Privet Drive as a ne’er-do-well might bleed into his life again against his will. But most of those he knew in Ginuliad just genuinely seemed to not care at all about that fact, and those who did professed to be concerned more with his health since it wasn’t exactly a secret that he had been beaten up by the Dragons.

Ken, meanwhile, told him that Youji had recommended him for an assistant position when it had opened up and that he was willing to give him a chance on that alone. “Just so long as you work hard, I don’t think I’ll regret it. What do you say?”

Harry hadn’t even thought about the fact that he would be busier than ever before he agreed.

Vvv


	13. People Who Respect You

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

SPOILERS

Harry began his post in Castella’s kitchen with a tour just before closing time on a Tuesday evening, and with a morning shift the next day. The assistant position he was filling was a bit of a catch all in terms of duties, fairly challenging with how he would be placed on whichever station needed him and expected to pick up the slack.

“Ken’s real glad you’re doin’ so well.” A coworker, Edmund told him after a few days while they cleaned and trimmed the vegetables for the next day’s salads. “Last guy quit out of the blue’n left us in a bit of a pickle.”

Harry nodded in understanding as he wiped the cutting board down, still a bit fuzzy headed from being up earlier in the mornings.

Ken was very understanding about Harry’s class schedule, though he was a bit less so about the fact that Harry would return to boarding school in the fall. The first couple of weeks he would frequently stand around whatever station Harry was on, making sure he wasn’t overwhelmed and chatting with him and whoever else was there at the time. Harry did appreciate the thought; he’d never had a job like this before and was nervous about if he would be able to grasp everything quickly, but Ken made sure he knew what he was doing.

Harry was switched around to all sorts of tasks as the weeks wore on and he could handle learning more –there were a lot that he never would have even thought about if he hadn’t seen them here. After vegetables he was thrown in the dish room for a week or two, then was passed over to closing so he knew how to shut the place down. He tried his hand at waiting tables when the servers needed a break after a bad rush, then helped prep the proteins for the dinner menu, and on and on and on it went.

It was hard work –the shifts were sometimes long and if he wasn’t careful he wouldn’t get enough sleep the night before to function properly –but once he got into the swing of things he really began to enjoy it. It was especially good once he had the processes down, which came too with time, and soon enough Harry was starting each shift with ease, not needing to check more than the day’s progress sheets before he was on his way. It kept him busy, it brought in a bit of money, and most importantly it gave him a bit of purpose for the long winter months.

But he may have gotten a bit too focused, because he was long healed and hanging around Roy more and more often, yet he still consistently forgot to bring up the promise he’d made to have a good, solid fight with the other boy.

He wasn’t consciously trying to put it off, but he also wasn’t chomping at the bit to hurry it along. At the time he’d been a bit out of sorts from the pain and whatever medication Roy’s friend had given him, and he’d been mostly neutral on the entire affair. On the plus side it would make Roy happy, but on the down side the fresh injuries would likely make some people worry over him again. On the one hand a part of him didn’t like the process of recovering from injuries all that much, but on the other hand a bigger part of him was starting to like the idea of letting off some steam in a good, all out brawl against a friend.

It slipped his mind for weeks, always coming back to him just after Roy left or when Harry was in the middle of some unrelated task. Then one day he walked Mr. Kopinak out of the building after their classes, and turned back into Edenton to see Roy standing up from one of the tables, an expectant gleam in his eye.

“I kind of wanted it to come up naturally,” Roy began as Harry walked over. “But, Corrina’s asked me to take on more responsibility soon. I won’t be able to move around as much as I’d like after that.”

Roy’s shift in mood since he’d last seen him threw Harry for a bit of a loop; he had heard from Muneharu that Roy might be in line to take over Red Sabor one day, but this cemented it, even if it was earlier than Muneharu had predicted.

“Alright.” Harry agreed to the unspoken request, mentally going over his first aid supplies –once again there wouldn’t be much magical healing. “When do you want to do this? Sooner the better since I’m off work a few days.”

“I’ve set something up for later tonight, if that’s fine?” Roy cracked an excited grin which lessened the tension some. “I’ll meet you over near Laporte’s at eight.”

Vvv

Harry left his apartment with enough time to spare and met up with Roy a street over from Laporte’s so they could head to wherever Roy had in mind. They took a series of short cuts and talked on the way; with the topics kept light, Harry felt more at ease than he would have expected, being so near to where he’d first been spotted by those Dragon members.

With Roy’s usual chattery self having returned, the walk took no time at all –they came out close to the Moth’s base and then turned in the opposite direction from where Harry headed for the Knight Bus. They went along until Roy stopped at an old abandoned stretch of the A13 that had been fenced off and subsequently broken into, pulling up a section of the rusting chain link so that Harry could duck under.

“We just got to wait for our witness, then we can go ahead.” Roy told him, that edge of excitement back in his voice; he offered him a cigarette that Harry turned down, moving over to the lone street lamp that was beginning to flicker as the sun set.

“Witness?”

“Yup. It’s only proper to have for a one-on-one, especially –well, for someone affiliated like I am.” Roy shrugged his jacket off, ignoring the cold and then started to remove his rings and watch. “I had a hard time finding anyone who knew us both, let alone someone who knew us and would be unbiased. So instead I asked a senior of mine if he could find someone who didn’t know _either_ of us personally ‘tsoever.”

“Oh.” Harry fiddled with his buttons, and in the end shed his jacket as well, wincing a bit at the wind but better off in his button down than Roy was in a wife beater. “How did he know _I’d_ never met ‘em?”

“Considering they don’t generally like the Moths, we just assumed. She’s the eldest child of the Pedrotti bo-”

“Good to see you’re here on time.”

From the other side of the A13 to where Harry and Roy had some through, a girl’s voice carried over just before she crested the hill and into sight. She was a short, portly teenager about their age wearing black trousers, boots and a fitted green winter coat; she had blue eyes, a missing tooth, and had her wavy dark hair pulled back into a loose bun at the base of her neck. She stopped a few feet away and leaned on her heels casually, laidback as could be in this strange –but maybe to her not so much –situation.

“As you were about to say, I’m Estrella Pedrotti. Good to finally meet you both –I’ve been meaning to for a while.”

“Likewise. Sorry for springing such an odd request on you.” Roy said, inclining his head while Harry greeted her as well; Estrella waved the apology off and smiled disarmingly.

“Nah... Red Sabor’s Roy Flores and the Moth’s Harry Potter? I respect your seniors of course, but being asked to be the witness for this fight is an _honour_ , I’d say.”

Harry didn’t say anything to rebuke Estrella’s assumption, mostly because it was right then that he and Roy locked eyes; he immediately felt his tension spike. They both took a few steps back and over, leaving a wide space between them and away from where Estrella was standing under the still flickering street light.

“Your fight will have the first daughter of the Pedrotti as a witness. Don’t hold back.” She said with finality, and there was a long second of charged silence before Roy made the first move.

He shot forwards leading with his right shoulder, and threw a hook at Harry’s temple straight away, which Harry managed to dodge by a hair. He continued to narrowly avoid the string of punches and jabs Roy followed up with, on the defensive and forced to swivel as Roy circled him in order to keep him in his sights. After a straight minute of this, Harry broken the pattern by grabbing Roy’s non dominant arm and yanking, bringing his knee up to catch him low in the stomach.

Roy choked, but instead of toppling over he used his free arm to wrap around Harry’s raised leg, putting them both off balance. When kicking out didn’t dislodge him, Harry released the arm he was still gripping and slammed his clasped fists in between Roy’s shoulder blades, which further shook their collected footing and ultimately worked; Roy groaned as the air was forced out of him and loosened enough that Harry could break out and back off.

Harry used his brief lead in recovery to swing his fist at Roy’s face, missing when instead of coming out of his hunch Roy instead dropped to his knees and planted his hands on the ground so he could lash out at Harry’s legs with his foot. Harry grunted at the painful hit to his shin but stayed standing, having suffered through Muneharu’s inhuman kicks back during their fight.

Unfortunately, his lapse in guard while focusing on keeping balance meant that when Roy swung upwards to punch square into his cheek a moment later, he was knocked back and stunned, falling hard onto his side and gasping out.

The makeshift arena was quiet save for Estrella shifting her stance and Roy’s laboured breathing, but Harry managed to struggle to a stand, wobbling in place and with a trickle of blood leaking from where he’d bitten his tongue, but grinning all the same.

“I’m not done just yet, Roy!” He called, the world looking strange without his glasses. Roy let out a bark of laughter and started to move, but Harry did as well.

Not wanting Roy to retreat into his comfort zone, Harry jumped forward and shot a fist at Roy’s nose again, this time to be blocked by Roy’s crossed arms. Harry kept coming, never letting Roy have a breather, switching between aiming for his head and his stomach, letting loose a kick every so often. When a hit finally landed on Roy’s temple it visibly affected him, making him stagger and shake his head.

Harry was about to try and hit him with his knee again when he caught a brief glimpse of the wide grin on Roy’s face and he stalled. Harry felt the breeze from the force of Roy’s punch when he jerked back to avoid it, and it spooked him so much that instead of fully correcting his footing he launched a kick directly to the side of Roy’s head.

Unseen from their position, Estrella nodded once.

Harry’s kick looked sure to connect, but Roy ducked underneath it and interlocked his fingers together –while Harry was suspended on one foot, Roy swerved around his outstretched leg and shot upwards out of his crouch towards Harry’s head. Harry only had a moment to realize what was happening, before Roy’s elbow slammed into the underside of Harry’s chin in a blow that wiped his mind blank for several seconds.

Harry didn’t yield right away; he tried to stay up by slamming his foot back to steady himself, but his legs buckled and he sank to one knee. His mind buzzed as he gasped and spat blood and half a tooth to the ground, and he pulled together every ounce of willpower he had in order to stand again.

“Not... that... easy!” He seethed, but his body wouldn’t work how he wanted it too. His vision grew black at the edges and he collapsed again to his knees, and within seconds he was falling forward to hit the ground with a hollow thud.

In the background Roy was gasping for breath, but Harry really couldn’t tell anything more than that since his head was spinning and making him nauseous. He sucked in air in deep gulps, trying to lessen his dizziness with only mild success, and with only half a mind he tried to push himself upwards –but his arms felt like they were made of jelly. The crunch of approaching footsteps managed to draw his attention; he let his cheek smack back onto the ground so he could see Estrella stop just in front of him.

“You showed me a good fight.” She said. “But you’ve done enough, I’d say.”

Harry laid there listlessly a minute, his eyes focusing the longer he breathed in and out but a lump forming low in his throat. “Why... why is this so frustrating?” He hated how his voice cracked; the urge to vomit was suddenly replaced by the urge to punch something.

“It’s obvious to me.” Estrella said after a pause, and then she was kneeling down to help Harry up, swinging one of his arms over her shoulders when he proved unable to stay steady on his legs. “You wanted to win.”

Vvv

Since he’d been able to avoid the brunt of it back in January, it was a little off putting to Harry to greet his tutor the next morning and have the man literally stiffen in shock before demanding that he tell him what had happened.

Admittedly, his injuries looked worse this time than they actually were –he had bruises and scrapes on his shins and arms, a split in his lip, a badly chipped tooth and a rather impressive shiner that descended down from around his eye into his cheek. He’d also put cold patches on his chin and knee and bandaids on the annoying cuts on his hands from when he’d tried to break his fall. Mr. Kopinak’s concern was understandable from that perspective, but it was when Harry thought back to the weeks gone by that his confusion came up.

Mr. Kopinak, back in January, had appeared unaffected by Harry’s extra (unwanted) two weeks of vacation, affirming that he wasn’t in danger of succumbing to his ‘sickness’ before approving the change in schedule. Harry had thought that was fine, and convenient –he may have been a good tutor, but it wasn’t as if he needed to act like Harry’s guardian.

Then Harry had returned from Muneharu’s and Mr. Kopinak had seen the fading bruises and bandages left on his fingers and knee. After his fight with Muneharu the holidays had started, so there had been no one around enough to really worry over his wounds then. But Mr. Kopinak had seen the remnants of the Double Heads Dragon attack every day, and though Harry had been able to put him off of asking about it further there was still concern in his eyes that lingered even after the last bruise faded.

Harry hadn’t given it any thought, especially once he’d started working and the attack also faded, moving into the back of his mind. Muneharu had fussed enough over those two weeks anyways, so he really just wanted to get his life back to normal at that point; back to where all he had to truly worry over was Sirius Black’s trial at Gringott’s and eventually meeting the man.

But ignoring it didn’t make it go away. Mr. Kopinak introduced more healing spells into the curriculum earlier than planned, and when he stayed for tea every so often he let Harry ramble on about his week for longer than he used to, and no matter how subtle he tried to be about it Harry did catch his persistent inquiries about his health. He even asked to scan his knee when the joint didn’t stop giving Harry trouble going into February, and promised to tell Harry straight away if there was anything wrong once he got a reply back from St. Mungo’s.

So his stormy expression stayed fixed throughout their classes the day after Harry and Roy’s fight and only lessened slightly when he had a sip of tea at the very end. But it returned in full force when Harry had to get up to grab the cream jug he had forgotten and his knee protested and wobbled while he was sitting down again.

“I got an owl back from St. Mungo’s yesterday, after I sent them a copy of the scan I did a few weeks ago.” He said, a parable of forced calm. “It told me that you have a badly torn meniscus, the tissue in your knee that basically supports your joint and kneecap. It will worsen over time if left like that, and it could also start to slide around and lock your leg in place, which is very painful.”

“...Oh.” Harry glanced down at his knee; it wasn’t even swollen anymore, and he didn’t even pay much attention to it anymore save when it acted up.

“Harry.”

He looked up and startled a bit when he saw that the usually unflappable tutor was so visibly _worried._

“I’ve tried to let it be these past two months. You’re an independent young man, and smart as well, so I knew you wouldn’t appreciate it if I pried.” He sighed heavily and stirred his tea. “And now I’m beginning to think that not saying anything was a terrible decision. I thought maybe you had a bad home situation, so I looked into your relatives... but they’re in Majorca for the winter.”

“...I _am_ better off here than in Privet Drive.” Harry said quietly.

“And yet twice I’ve seen you looking as if you’ve been _attacked._ A few bumps and bruises are normal now and then, but this is extreme. The second semester isn’t even half over.”

“It’s not like Hogwarts is a paragon of safety...” Harry mumbled, and when Mr. Kopinak looked confused he decided to go on. “My first year a professor tried to kill me. My second I was chased by giant spiders and nearly crushed by the Whomping Willow. Just about the entire school turned on me because of something I didn’t even _know about_ , and I had to get the bones in my arm regrown. I-I’ve gotten hurt here in Ginuliad, it’s true, but _this_ was at least because of my own decisions.”

Harry felt his face turn red as he grew a little frustrated with the conversation. “You know, I thought at first I would feel at home in Hogwarts –everyone had magic, there were no Dursleys, I wasn’t talked about as some sort of no good hooligan! But –I didn’t, not when it counted. I know you’re worried, but I feel happy here. I _like_ it here, where no one knows about my parents or Voldemort, and everyone’s nice to me, and I can actually choose what happens to me instead of just getting dragged into stuff.”

“Did you get hurt any other times since you’ve lived here?” Mr. Kopinak pressed, but now there was a calmness to him that was natural. “And I don’t mean only physically.”

“...I fought someone at the start of the Christmas hols.” Harry admitted. “But I swear, it was... well, maybe not for a good reason, but... I’d gotten really down because Professor Dumbledore said I couldn’t go back to Hogwarts during the break, and a friend of mine helped me out of it... er, through punching.”

“...I’m taking you in to get that sorted out.” Mr. Kopinak said at length, nodding at Harry’s knee. “And from now on, at least please tell me if you’ve been hurt, or gotten into trouble, feel depressed, anything. You’ve been doing so _well_ , and while you do seem happier I can’t help but worry.”

“I –I will. I promise.”

“Then tomorrow’s class will be postponed. I’ll come and escort you to St. Mungo’s so we can get your knee at least fixed up, since people must have seen your injuries already.”

Vvv

He and Muneharu still got together like clockwork a few times every week either in passing or for a meal, and several times Harry simply swung by the shop to watch him work after hours.

“Hand me that canister. Yeah, the blue one.”

Harry winced as he overextended his injured shoulder, but reached down for the thing and hefted it over to Muneharu with little trouble otherwise. The back room of Burke’s Auto was one of the few rooms with excessive clutter –and Muneharu liked to use it to work on the moped since it was full to the brim with odds and ends.

“Hah, I think I’m done for the day.” He eventually sighed, having rummaged around fruitlessly enough times –he was at the point in construction where all that was left to do was either extremely tedious or extremely time consuming. “You ready?”

“Sure, I’ve just got to grab my jacket.” Harry said, and jogged over to the coat rack while Muneharu stretched.

“Man, I’m beat.” He groaned, yawning once he had made sure everything was locked up.

“Don’t overwork yourself.” Harry said offhand, and his friend scoffed, pushing at Harry’s shoulder.

“You’re one to talk.” Harry shrugged. “Oh, and since you’re apparently not going to bring it up –a little birdie told me about you and Flores.”

“G –how fast does gossip travel around here?” Harry exclaimed, incredulous. He scrubbed at his unbruised cheek and did his best to not mess up the cold compress, and he could feel his ears burning. “What about it?”

“’What about it?’ What, don’t tell me you don’t want to talk since you’re put out over losing?” Muneharu teased, a shit-eating grin on his face –Harry narrowed his eyes and stayed quiet. “Holy shit, you _are._ C’mon, I’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow...”

“Don’t try and console me, that makes it worse.” Harry grumbled. “Jeez, first Nihal and now this.”

_“Defeat doesn’t finish a man, Harry.” Nihal told him with a sagely nod, giving him a clap on the shoulder that was probably meant to reassure him. “Giving up does. What is defeat but an opportunity –the first step to true victory.”_

“Of course I don’t like losing.” Harry went on, looking anywhere but directly at Muneharu. “Not only that, but –with this, it seems like the _only_ thing I’m doing when I fight is losing.”

Muneharu snorted, shaking his head.

“While having a track record of losses isn’t the worst thing since you’ll be underestimated, I think you’re looking at this the wrong way besides that.” Harry made a curious noise, listening intently. “You’ve got people who respect you in the Evil Moth of Death, friends in Red Sabor, and countless others who I know think highly of you around here –not the least of which being Estrella Pedrotti, a difficult one to impress.”

“You’re building a reputation whether you like it or not, but from what I’ve heard it’s far from people thinking of you as a _loser_. Rather it’s one of ‘near wins’ –and that’s something that people take note of. That’s something that makes people anticipate you.” Muneharu flicked Harry’s ear and laughed. “You’ll get an actual win eventually. Until then, don’t even sweat it.”

As March dragged on Harry contented himself with his job in Castella’s kitchen and the Goblins updating him every few days on the trial proceedings for Sirius Black. His days were busy, and while Harry could have let some of his friendships fall to the wayside he actually tried to make _more_ of an effort than before. He kept on with his schoolwork and made time every Friday to go down to Sri Guru Singh, and when he wrote letters to his friends the ones he sent to Neville grew longer.

He slept heavily every night and ate as much as he ever did during the day, until one leisurely walk back from the grocers with Roy made him pause and realize that he was actually _taller_ than the other now.

Then he had finally got around to introducing Nihal to Roy and after that the three of them spent a few hours every so often doing something fun. Harry and Rafid and Mrs. Lutz had tea every Sunday, Ken Kuniyoshi had a few talks with him about himself after his shifts at the restaurant –overall things were going well. Harry would only complain about the occasional shooting pain in his knee and even that was negligible after the treatment he’d gotten at St. Mungo’s.

And one day out of the blue, he received a very official looking scroll from one of the Gringott’s owls that relayed to him the results of Sirius Black’s long overdue trial.

“I can’t believe this.”

“It may seem callous, but I cannot find it surprising.” Silvermark said grimly. “We Goblins have long kept our business to ours, and even longer have we known that at the very least the British Ministry is more prone to unjust acts than we would like. It _was_ our error that caused this to go overlooked, so there is blame on both sides, but even so.”

“Twelve years...”

“Much, much more blame than is acceptable.” Silvermark conceded.

Harry had finished the paperwork needed for the final few months’ stretch of medical care, which would put a dent in his vault but in Harry’s mind was worth every Knut for what Siruis had gone through. Silvermark had been more than helpful on this front, talking him through the legal jargon and going through each fee with a fine tooth comb so he was sure he was paying no more than what was needed. That side of things had taken over an hour to get through on its own, and then had come the actually nerve-wracking part to the day.

Up until then, it hadn’t really crossed Harry’s mind what _exactly_ Sirius had been through –especially not in the context of him being innocent from the start. Suddenly being faced with it, it turned Harry’s stomach worse than anything else he’d known, but at the same time he was inexplicably amazed.

He had real, _living_ magical family now; Sirius wasn’t in even minutely good sorts, of course, and maybe he’d never fully heal or maybe he would someday get worse and relapse, but Sirius was still _here._ Right now, sitting up in bed in one of the rooms of the Goblins’ medical ward, reading a book that Harry couldn’t identify just from peering in through the blinds, was his _godfather._ Someone his parents had been close with, who they had wanted to take care of Harry if anything had ever happened to them –who had never gotten to do so because of the awful circumstances of the war.

It was terrifying.

Sirius Black looked so different from the wanted poster that had been plastered around so many months ago; in the hospital garb it was easy to see that his bones stuck out far too pronounced to be normal, and even through the blinds Harry could see him shudder every so often as if caught in a cold breeze. But his hair had been cut short, and though he remained thin in body his face at least appeared healthier, like he had recently been eating consistently and sleeping well.

“He is doing better than we expected.” The nurse, Cobblemaker told him as he worked up the courage to enter. “We aren’t positive why, but he’s fairly lucid, not as damaged by his time in Azkaban as we were prepared for. With his treatment plan already begun he may even make a good enough recovery to live on his own at some point.”

“...and he really wants to see me?”

“I was there to greet him when he came back to his mind, and you were the first thing he thought to ask about.” Cobblemaker gave him a pat on his elbow and then left to check on the other patients in the ward.

With no other reason to delay, Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door, not waiting for a response before pushing it open so he could lean in but still stand in the hall. Sirius jumped something fierce and dropped the book he’d been holding, wide eyes locking with Harry’s before freezing in shock.

“Can I come in?” Harry asked, shuffling anxiously in place while Sirius stared, owl eyed. It took a moment for him to return to himself, but as soon as he did he turned red in embarrassment.

“O-Of course! Of course, please.” He rasped, tucking the book away and shifting around so he could face him. Harry pulled over an empty chair and sat down next to the bed, waiting for Sirius to settle before looking at him. A few seconds of awkward silence passed between them before Sirius cleared his throat.

“I heard... from the Goblins that y-you were the one who... had me brought in and tried.” He sounded like he was gargling rocks. “I... I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Y-You don’t need to!” Harry assured him right away. “You’re innocent, you’ll be cleared once you’ve gotten your strength back. That’s what’s important.”

Sirius was staring at him again –his eyes were sunken and he looked half ready to cry. “You know, you look like your father and... I remember you acting like him as a babe. But now, y-you sound so much like L-Lily. I’m... I’m so sorry, Harry... that I wasn’t there for you.”

“It isn’t your fault.” Sirius shuddered again, so Harry reached out and took one of his godfather’s hands; Sirius looked ready to jerk back, but after a few seconds he relaxed and squeezed back. “It’s Pettigrew’s fault for all of this. You didn’t know what would happen.”

“They didn’t... they only said they would do ‘something’ about... Peter.” There was a dark gleam in Sirius’ eyes that Harry didn’t like.

“I’ve arranged to have him brought in the same way you were.” Harry told him simply. “He’ll have a trial, and they’ll hold him until you’ve recovered enough to testify at his Ministry trial. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Sirius trembled fiercely, and then barked out a laugh high and loud like a dog’s, which changed after a minute into worn out, relieved sobs. When he’d calmed again, his shoulders had lost all of their nervous tension and he was smiling.

“That’s good... that’s –that’s good, that’s the best... second best news I’ve heard all day. The best I heard was that you would come and see me.”

Harry could feel his face tinge red. “I’m just happy you wanted to see me, too.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sirius asked baffled. “My only godson, all grown up and... helping me so much. Even though you probably thought I was g-guilty the whole time.”

“I didn’t think you were guilty. I just knew that you hadn’t had a trial, and you were still my godfather according to Gringott’s. I just wanted to find out what had gone off.” Harry looked away, embarrassed. “And... I mean, I’ll be busy with class and whatever else... but if you wanted, I could come and visit you a few times a week? Y-You’re bound to get a bit bored recovering...”

“I’d like that.” If Sirius had any wariness in his mind then, it vanished for the moment. “Well... we can talk about everything up to now, later... for today why don’t you tell me about how you found I wasn’t given a trial?”

Vvv

“You’re soooo not what I was expecting.”

Harry had been walking back from an evening shift, slowly for how tired he was and not watching for anyone acting strange –something he usually did unconsciously after the debacle with Double Heads Dragon, but today he was distracted. As such it had taken him by complete surprise when he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder by a large hand, and it was only the quick reflexes of the offender that he hadn’t been slugged in the nose by Harry’s startled lash.

Then Harry met EMOD’s fourth generation prospects.

“Heck’re you sayin’? You know as much as me and he don’t look nothing like a surprise.” Someone else said from further away, and Harry looked over his shoulder to see three other teenagers around his age coming to stand near him. The one who had lain a hand on Harry’s shoulder took a slight step back and laughed, which did a lot to make Harry relax and ease his hand out of a fist.

“Shut the fuck up! Sorry for that, Potter, didn’t think you were so spaced out.” He stuck out a hand and Harry shook it; the other boy was nearly six foot tall and had a thin body overall, but stood a bit off kilter in the way that made it hard to predict what his next move would be. He had long, braided brown hair and slightly sunken brown eyes, and was grinning from ear to ear. “I’m Dan Lam-Barnes, one of EMOD’s 4th prospects along with these shitheads.”

“Budge up you stickbug.” The girl behind him said, elbowing him out of the way and giving Harry a critical once over; she was short and dark skinned, with buzzed hair and thick jewellery around her neck. “So you’re Maekawa’s little brother, huh? I’m Catherine Valdez –my older sister Ellen is a part of the second generation.”

Harry would have corrected her about being Muneharu’s brother, but the arm of the second boy –a bleached blond of similar height to him with pierced ears –had draped itself around his shoulders and made him pause. “And I’m Shinji Santou! My older brother was in the first gen’, but don’cha tell him I told you –he gets pissy ‘bout it these days.”

“Probably because he wanted you to join Red Sabor.”

“And this ray of fuckin’ sunshine is Tess Ménard. She’s jus’sore ‘cause I _didn’t_ go for their team.” Shinji drawled, nonetheless grinning at the girl who walked over; she was taller than Harry and had long, pin straight dark hair and a mouth full of braces, and she gave a gloomy wave before zoning out slightly.

“Nice to meet all of you.” Harry said politely, feeling more confident when it became apparent that this group was introducing themselves as peers. “I didn’t know there were any, er, prospects my age around.”

“That’s because we’re pretty unofficial. Dom said we can call ourselves the fourth for now, but the third gets the final say.” Catherine informed him proudly. “When we heard our seniors talkin’ about a guy our age who Maekawa took a liking to, we _had_ to see what you were like.”

“...Muneharu’s that big of a-”

“Harry!”

Surprised, everyone paused and turned as one to look over to where the shout had come from. Harry was relieved to see that it was Nihal and Roy across the street; Nihal was carrying a bag of papers on one hand and a bag of takeout in the other, and Roy was the one who had yelled since he was wearing a look of bald faced annoyance.

“...friends o’ yours?” Shinji asked, tilting his head to leer in a way that made Harry tense under his arm.

Roy must have interpreted his shift as a sign of distress, because a moment later he was storming over, clearly intent on giving Shinji a piece of his mind. Nihal trailed behind him at a more sedate pace, warily inspecting the other members of Shinji’s group –Harry may be somewhat used to the constant stream of gang members introducing themselves, but he knew that Nihal had never faced it quite so directly before.

“He’s from Red Sabor.” Tess muttered to Shinji seconds before Roy came into earshot. Shinji unwound his arm from Harry’s shoulders and stepped up to meet Roy a few feet away from the rest of the gathered teens, greeting him lazily but noticeably on his guard.

As the two of them began a (one-sided) heated argument, Harry pressed a hand to his forehead to try and ward off the headache steadily creeping up on him that was only partially due to the long day that wasn’t yet over. Nihal sidestepped around Dan and came up to stand next to Harry, setting his bags on the ground and clapping him on the back.

“You never catch a break, do you?”

Despite himself, Harry had to laugh. “Well, I’m never bored. What were you guys up to?”

“Ah. Mum gave me some supplementary material to bring you, and I ran into Roy on the way. He decided to buy takeout and tag along.” Nihal shrugged and jerked his head towards Dan. “We’d thought to surprise you or something, but instead we find you being accosted in the street.”

“Hey, no one’s accostin’ anyone here!” Dan protested; behind him, Harry could tell that Roy was becoming increasingly agitated at whatever Shinji was saying to him. “Anyone’s doing that it’s your boy from Red Sabor over there.”

Harry sighed and looked at the arguing pair again, pausing at the way they had shifted in just a few seconds. Roy had turned eerily calm all of a sudden and Shinji had moved to stand in front of Roy with his back to the group, and when Shinji tilted his head Harry could see that Roy had clenched his jaw tight.

“Hey, guys?” Harry called, getting everyone’s attention save for the pair that he wanted; then Shinji reached to his back pocket after shrugging, and it was like a switch had been flipped. Roy swung a foot out to topple Shinji to the ground, Catherine pulled Nihal back while Dan dropped into a defensive stance beside Tess, and Harry just _moved._

The scuffle lasted no more than a dozen seconds; Harry saw what Shinji had been reaching for, stomped forward and kicked it out of his grip sending it flying into the gutter. Then he slammed a foot down onto Shinji’s chest and seized the back of Roy’s collar to pull his friend up and off of him.

“Quit it! _Now!”_ He barked, and both of them froze instantly, not even breathing for a few seconds. “Roy, get the facts straight before you act on someone’s behalf! You cheapen Corrina’s confidence in you! Shinji, you ever pull that shit on a friend of mine again, _you’ll_ be the one getting stitched up! _Got it?!_ ”

“Yes!!” They both squeaked, quaking a bit under the force of Harry’s glower.

“Good.” Harry released Roy’s shirt and removed his foot from Shinji’s chest, leaving the two of them gasping for air. He turned around and appeared to everyone else like he was shrinking back down to his normal size, the only difference being that his cheeks were paler and he now looked exhausted –he tried to smile at them. “Well, it was nice meeting you all, but if you could _not_ approach me so late in the day that would be great, otherwise I’ll be too cranky to function normally. Nihal, I appreciate that you two wanted to bring me food, but I’m very tired from work so I’ll just take those papers and be heading home now.”

“A-Ah... it’s no problem, here you go.” Nihal said, holding the bag out for Harry to take.

“Thanks. Oh, and I have plans so I won’t be at prayers this Friday.” Nihal nodded, and within a minute Harry was down the street and around the corner, leaving a shell shocked group of teens in his wake.

“W-What the hell was that?” Dan demanded. “One second he’s as passive as a monk, next it’s like I was lookin’ at a fuckin’ military commander!”

“Roy, are you alright?” Nihal went to crouch next to his coughing friend, takeout boxes all but forgotten.

“You’re a moron, Shinji.” Tess said.

“A mor’n who got that Potter guy t’ show ‘is real col’rs!” Shinji exclaimed weakly, not having moved from where he’d been left sprawled on his back except to rub gingerly at his bruised chest.

“Y-You better not-” Roy halted so he could hack out another coughing fit. “-better not be sayin’ you p-planned that, bastard!”

“Of course he didn’t.” Catherine curtly butt in, patting at Roy’s back a touch too forcefully. “But it _was_ informative. You two’ve never seen him like that?”

“Not me, though I mainly see him at Sri Guru Singh so that’s not the best reference.” Nihal scrubbed at his forehead. “Roy?”

“...not even when we fought.” Roy eventually said, rubbing at his neck. “But you’ve known him longer, Nihal. Maybe it _is_ just that his temper’s shorter since he’s tired.”

“Whatever it was, I’m not testing that guy.” Dan muttered, and everyone else silently agreed.

//


End file.
